It's Complicated
by Loudmouth Lamb
Summary: Loosely connected, contemporary Gadge one-shots with special appearances from all of your favorite Hunger Games characters. Mostly fluff and smut and everything nice.
1. Dare and Consequence

**SOPHOMORE YEAR (college)**

 **November**

Gale never turned down a dare, especially with money involved, so when Thom slapped a wrinkled twenty onto the sticky bar and said, "Bet you're too chicken shit to try it, Hawthorne," Gale made the same mistake he always did.

"Give 'em here," he said, holding out his hand. Thom dropped two blue pills into his palm.

"I don't know about this," said Bristel, swaying slightly on his stool. "I heard about a guy who went blind from taking that stuff."

Gale inspected the pills in the dim, dirty bar light. Was twenty dollars worth going blind for? Not really. His pride, however, maybe. Besides, Bristel spent too much time surfing WebMD. His medical advice was not to be trusted. Gale hadn't forgotten the mysterious mole fiasco last year. For a week, Bristel was convinced he had cancer. Turned out to be a speck of ink.

"Well? You going to do it or not?" said Thom, reaching to retrieve his twenty. Gale beat him to it. He snatched up the money with one hand and tossed back the blue pills with the other, chasing them down with the last of his beer.

"If I go blind," he said, "then you better fork up another twenty bucks."

* * *

The Hob was a smelly hole in the wall, but the beer was cheap, they didn't I.D., and the music was tolerable, not that electronic crud. Madge tried to ignore the mold on the ceiling, which was difficult with Finnick around. "That one," he said, pointing to a fuzzy, green blob directly over their table, "looks like a dick."

"They all look like dicks," said Johanna.

"Not the one over the pool table," said Finnick. He turned to Madge. "Have you seen it yet?"

"No," she said. This was her first visit to The Hob. She hadn't wanted to come, but Johanna refused to take _no_ for an answer.

"That's got to change," said Finnick. He grabbed her arm and practically dragged her out of the booth. Madge stumbled behind him across the room, squeezing between the sweaty bodies of strangers, to the pool table.

"Tell me what you see," said Finnick, coming to a stop. Madge craned her neck. She squinted at the water stain overhead.

"Um, looks kind of like a face," she said.

"Not just any face," said Finnick. "It's the spitting image of Donald Trump." He nudged her a few inches to the left. "Close one eye and look again." Madge did as she was told. Sure enough, the spot did resemble the Republican presidential nominee, slash reality T.V. mogul, slash over-bronzed asshole with chicken feather hair. Despite her health and safety concerns, the likeness impressed her. The stain was even the same rusty color as Trump.

"Still looks like a dick to me," said Johanna, leaning against the pool table.

* * *

Thirty minutes after taking the blue pills, Gale felt nothing. Bristel was still blabbering on about the horrible side effects he'd read about online, but Gale tuned him out. He scanned the room, searching for his next hook-up before the drugs kicked in. Slim pickings tonight. Glimmer cast him a sly, sideways glances from the other end of the bar, but he ignored her. _Too clingy._ Portia and Octavia were dancing nearby, grinding on each other, throwing come-hither looks over their shoulders. He wasn't interested in a threesome tonight, though, and those two, with their matching violet hair, came in a package deal.

Gale's searching eyes paused on Johanna Mason, sitting on the edge of the pool table with her legs spread, giving the whole room a clear view of her lacy, black panties. _Ding ding ding, we have a winner,_ he thought, hopping down from his stool.

"Where you going?" said Bristel.

Gale stole his half finished beer and chugged. He slammed the empty bottle down on the bar, wiped his mouth, and said, "Time to pick up my date."

He cut through Portia and Octavia. Halfway across the dance floor, Johanna caught him coming. She flashed that tell-tale, thin-lipped smirk which always led to a good time.

* * *

"He won't win," said Finnick as he wracked up.

"I don't know," said Madge. "No one thought he'd make it this far. It's time to stop underestimating him." She leaned against the pool table for support, a little wobbly on her feet. She was drunk enough now not to care about the bar's questionable sanitation standards. Drunk enough to talk politics, a topic she avoided like the plague when she was sober. Being the mayor's daughter, she tried not to think about politics. Here at school, she tried to be like everyone else, not the campaign cardboard cut-out she was raised to be.

Finnick handed her a pool stick. "What, you think Trump's really going to make America great again?" he said.

Madge rolled her eyes. "Of course not. He's going to run America into the ground. He's a...a…" She was getting angry just thinking about the man. "He's a racist, woman-hating big-mouth, but that's what the people want right now. They're scared. They want a scapegoat and Trump's giving them exactly that, playing on their fears, making irresistible promises."

Finnick shrugged, unconcerned. "I still think Hillary's got it in the bag."

"She isn't much better," said Madge.

"Careful now, Undersee," he said, grinning. "There's a special place in Hell reserved for women who don't support other women."

Madge let out a snort. "That's sexist," she said, jabbing him in the stomach with her pool stick. "I'm not going to vote for someone just because we both have vaginas."

Before Finnick could form a response, Johanna leapt lithely from the pool table. "Where you going?" Finnick asked. "We're about to start a game."

"I've got another game in mind," said Johanna. Madge followed her line of sight to the handsome, dark-haired man striding towards them across the dance floor. A groan rose up from the ocean of tequila and beer in her stomach. _Not him_ , she thought. Gale Hawthorne came to a stop before them.

"Mason," he said, ignoring Madge and Finnick. Madge didn't mind. She preferred when he ignored her. "You wanna-?"

"Alright," Johanna cut him off with a shrug. They sauntered off together, disappearing into the bathroom.

"She better not bring home whatever she catches from him," said Madge, scowling. Gale Hawthorne was an insufferable playboy. Who knew what kind of diseases he was spreading around?

"Someone sounds jealous," said Finnick.

Madge turned her scowl on him. "I'd rather fuck Donald Trump," she said flatly. Finnick tossed back his head and laughed, but she wasn't joking. Not at all.

* * *

Well, the blue pills were definitely working now and he wasn't blind, yet.

"Jesus Christ, Hawthorne," said Johanna, panting as she unwound her legs from his waist and slid to her feet, leaving a streak of sweat on the graffitied bathroom stall. Her eyes darted downwards. "How the hell are you still hard?"

Gale always forgot how frank Johanna Mason could be. God, it was hot, and uncomfortable, but mostly annoying. This was their dozenth hook-up. Maybe. He'd lost count, which meant it was about time to call it off. Not yet. Not until this stubborn erection was taken care of.

"One more time," he said, pressing his hands to the stall on either side of her head. She was so short, even in spiky heels, but her wolfish confidence gave the illusion of great height.

"Oh, alright," said Johanna. She pushed him onto the toilet and straddled him backwards, leaning over to brace her palms against the stall door.

* * *

Finnick was killing her at pool. If they were playing for real money, instead of cheese fries, then she'd have lost her whole trust fund by now. As it was, she hadn't been able to eat a single cheese fry and they looked so good. After four games of not succeeding to hit a single one of the colorful, numbered balls, Madge threw down her stick.

"I'm out," she said. She'd started drinking water an hour ago. Sobering up, her discomfort with this grimey, barely lit bar crept back in. She was tired. She had a piano recital tomorrow at noon. "I think I'm going to head home."

"Don't be a sore loser," said Finnick. "I'll share the fries."

"No thanks." Madge slung her purse over her shoulder. "Tell Johanna I'll see her back

on campus."

She gave him a quick wave, before ducking into the crowd. Sweaty bodies bumped into her as she fought her way to the bar, to close out her tab. Halfway there, she changed direction, deciding to hit the bathroom first. Campus wasn't far, but this late at night, there was no telling how long she'd have to wait for a bus.

There was a ridiculous line for the women's bathroom. Madge stood at the end for a full five minutes without getting any closer to the door. The music was a bit too loud, thumping through the wooden boards under her feet. She was ready for the concrete stability of the sidewalk, ready to get the hell out of here, change into something comfortable, eat a whole sleeve of double-stuffed oreos, and then pass out on the couch to reruns of _I Love Lucy._

There was no line for the men's room. Most of them just pissed in the back alley when they stepped out for a smoke. Madge looked around to ascertain that no one was paying her any attention, before darting into the men's bathroom. She froze in the doorway, remembering too late that the room was occupied.

Johanna sat on the sink counter, her back pressed to the mirror, head tipped towards the ceiling, eyes closed, grunting profanities each time Gale slammed into her. _Get out_ , thought Madge. _Get out, get out, out, out!_ She couldn't look away, immobilized by shock, and disgust, and...Her gaze dropped low, to Gale's bare ass, muscles clenched and firm...

Madge shook her head. She took a step back, trying to sneak out quietly, but slipped on the slick floor. Her shoulder thudded against the door. Gale's head snapped up. He caught her reflection in the mirror. She froze again with one foot out the door, staring wide-eyed back at him, horrified and, even worse, a little turned on. Then Gale winked at her. She spun around and spilled out of the bathroom, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Only when she rounded the corner, and the thumping music from The Hob faded to a distant rumble, did Madge realize that she'd forgotten to close her tab. She couldn't go back, though, so she whipped out her phone and shot Finnick a text, asking him to cover her and promising to pay him back tomorrow.

 _No prob,_ he responded almost immediately. _I saw you running out of here. Is the building on fire?_

Madge didn't answer. She dropped her phone into her purse and hurried to the bus stop, desperate to put as much distance between herself and The Hob as possible.

* * *

Johanna pulled on her midriff t-shirt of some underground punk band called District Thirteen. Of course she wasn't wearing a bra. She never did.

"Seriously, did you take something?" she said, eyeing the still hard bulge in his pants.

"No," he said, lying automatically. He squirmed under Johanna's shrewd inspection.

"Whatever," she finally said. "Your problem, not mine." She brushed past him towards the door, but Gale caught her arm and pulled her into him. He locked his arms around her waist, took her pierced earlobe between his teeth and gave it slight tug.

"Come home with me," he said.

Laughing, Johanna wriggled free. "Not a chance. I'm meeting someone else."

"Who?"

Johanna didn't answer. She paused at the bathroom door, glanced at him over her shoulder, and, with an almost cruel smirk, she said, "Good luck with your little problem, Hawthorne."

* * *

Madge was grateful for the cold. She took deep breaths of icy air to clear her muggy head of what she'd accidentally walked in on. A cluster of older men gathered at the other end of the bench. They reeked of beer. Their laughter grated against her nerves. Every few minutes, she caught them casting bleary-eyed, lecherous glances in her direction. Suddenly, she regretted leaving the bar by herself, but she wasn't about to go back now.

 _You're fine,_ she told herself, keeping tabs on the men from the corner of her eye. She clutched her phone in her lap with one hand, ready to dial 911, while gripping her keychain can of mace in her purse with the other. Besides the stolen glances, the men left her alone, but better safe than sorry. This side of town really was no place for a girl to be alone.

To distract herself as she waited for the bus, hoping it would come on time for once, she tapped her feet against the sidewalk, practicing for her recital. She was tapping out an arpeggio when someone dropped down into the empty space on the bench beside her. Madge whipped out her pepper spray and rounded on the man sitting too close to her.

"That's no way to greet a friend," said Gale.

Madge gaped at him, speechless for a moment, torn between humiliation and

annoyance. "What do you want?" she snapped.

Gale leaned back against the bench and folded his hands behind his head. "Waiting for a bus," he said. He looked at the pepper spray, still raised and ready to fire. "I'm not going to attack you, Undersee."

Madge dropped the can back into her purse. "Go wait somewhere else," she said, turning away from him. She scooted to the very end of the bench.

"Why?" he said, scooting after her, so that their thighs pressed together. "I know you enjoyed the show earlier."

Madge leapt to her feet. "I was just trying to pee," she said, glaring down at him. "That's what bathrooms are for, you know."

"You could have gone," said Gale. "Jo and I wouldn't have minded."

"You're disgusting," she said. She turned her back on him and marched off.

* * *

The bus was taking forever. Gale shifted on the bench, trying to get comfortable. He spread his legs and hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. How long had it been since he took those stupid pills? At least two hours. With nothing to occupy him, Bristel's WebMD prophecies seeped into his already beer-soaked brain. To make sure he wasn't going blind, he squinted at the bus map a few feet away, trying to make out the letters like he was at the optometrist's, only the light wasn't half as good.

 _You'd know if you were going blind_ , he told himself. Bristel's doom-saying voice was louder. Gale needed a distraction. He needed...His eyes zeroed in on Madge, sitting on the curb, where she was likely to get run over if the bus ever arrived. She'd taken off her shoes and was rubbing her heel. She kept her head turned, so he could only see a thin sliver of her face, enough to know she was still scowling.

The three gray-haired men began howling laughter. Madge froze. Her slumped shoulders snapped into a tense line. She didn't look towards them, but she cocked her head a little in their direction, as if listening for the approach of unwanted footsteps. Gale noticed that her hand was in her purse. He could also see more of her face from this angle. She didn't look afraid, just prepared.

Gale stole a long, sideways glance at the three men on his other side. He'd barely noticed them before. They weren't a threat to him. No red flags. Just three nondescript, bearded men on a bender after work, probably at one of the graphite factories. He'd seen their type plenty of times. The assembly line workers reminded him a lot of the miners from his hometown.

Now that he'd taken a moment to size up this particular trio, he did notice the way their bleary, red eyes darted to Madge. He didn't much care for it.

* * *

Finally, the bus arrived on a cloud of black exhaust fumes. Madge was the first on board. She swiped her student card and then faced the crowded aisle. According to her wristwatch, it was just after three in the morning. The bars were closed and the drunken migration home had begun. There were no empty seats and the aisle was so packed, she couldn't go past the fourth row, not without having to squeeze uncomfortably close through a cluster-fuck of strangers. Resigned to standing, she stretched out her arm, just barely reaching the grab-handle dangling overhead.

One of the drunk men boarded the bus next. He dropped a few coins into the pay slot and shot Madge a sloppy, yellow teeth smile as he took a shaky step towards her. _Great,_ she thought, trapped. It was bad enough that she had to stand, without some drunk asshole using the rocking of the bus as an excuse to dry hump her. Sometimes she regretted turning down her father's offer to hire a private chauffeur to shuttle her around. Public transportation was, in her opinion, the innermost circle of Hell. Forget anything Dante had to say on the matter. He'd never been groped on a city bus before.

Madge wanted to be independent. She didn't want to be a sheltered, spoiled rich girl. After eighteen years of that life, she was sick of it, so she grit her teeth and glared down the drunk man, trying to appear fierce, when she felt mostly nauseous. He was so close that she could smell the stale cigarette smoke that clung to his faded leather jacket.

Then Gale appeared. He caught up to the man in three quick strides and shouldered past him. The drunk stumbled sideways into the lap of a passed out frat boy. Gale stepped over the man's flailing legs.

"You're welcome," he said, joining Madge. She didn't say anything, just looked to the window. She didn't need anyone to be her knight in shining armor. Especially not him. _I can take care of myself._

* * *

The bus lurched forward with a metal whine. Gale held tight to the bars on either side of him to keep from crashing into Madge. They stood face to face. Even standing on her tiptoes to reach the grab-handle, she was a head shorter than him. She kept her eyes fixed on the window, the darkness streaked with flares of artificial light. She put up a wall of tension between them that Gale could feel, physically. If he reached out his hand, he was certain he'd meet with an invisible stone barrier.

The bus hit a pothole and his sweaty hands slipped from the bars. Turned out there was no invisible wall to catch him, just Madge. She was thrown back by his weight, double her own. Her knees buckled. For a split second, as she fell, she imagined what the aisle floor looked like, all of the slush, and chewed gum from the mouths of strangers, the germs, so many germs.

Gale caught the bar to his left and, at the same time, wrapped his free arm around Madge's waist, pulling her flush against him. She looked up at him for the first time all night, really the first time in years, without a hint of revulsion.

"Tha-" she began, stopping short when she felt _something_ hard poking into her stomach. "Seriously?" she said, leaping back, that familiar glint of disgust in her eyes. Her face red as a Fourth of July firework.

"What?" said Gale, unable to suppress a grin. Madge was such a prude. She always had been. _It's a boner, not a bomb,_ he wanted to tell her, but that wasn't exactly the kind of thing you were supposed to announce in public.

Madge was not in the mood to be teased. Her feet were throbbing, she was sweating under her coat, even though it was below freezing outside, and she seriously needed to pee. Only the last problem was Gale's fault, but she blamed him for all of them anyway. If he hadn't kept Johanna for so long, then she wouldn't be going home by herself. Of course, Jo was just as much to blame, but Jo wasn't here.

Madge looked him straight in the eyes. "You are such a slut," she said, her voice imperious and carrying. The trio of gray-haired creeps broke into another fit of laughter. Gale ignored them. Since when did the mayor's perfect daughter use words like _slut_ , on a city bus nonetheless, at three in the morning? Katniss was always going on about how much Undersee had changed since high school. Obviously, it was true. Hometown Madge never would've insulted anyone, not even him, with such...crass elegance.

He was still searching for a response when she turned her face back to the window. There were a few things he _wanted_ to say, that she shouldn't flatter herself, he wasn't interested. In fact, bumping into her, literally, had been more painful than pleasurable. Surely the blue pills would wear off soon and he still wasn't blind, so everything was fine. That's what he told himself to keep from panicking.

Since there was no way in hell that he was going to tell Undersee about his bet with Thom, and since he couldn't let her insult slide completely, he whistled "The Wheels on the Bus" on loop for the remainder of the ride, watching her cheek muscle twitch, waiting for her to snap.

* * *

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the town. The wheels on the bus go round and round, the wheels on the bus... _Goddamn Gale Hawthorne_ , thought Madge, stabbing her key into the lock. After forty-five minutes of listening to him hum, all through the bus ride and the walk to campus, she expected to have that stupid kid's song stuck in her head for days.

Madge flipped on the common room lights. It was good to be home, even if home was a cinderblock box. She was greeted by Katniss' poster of George Washington, crossing the Delaware, smoking a joint. _Hello, Mr. President_ , she thought, kicking off her shoes. A blister pulsed where the leather straps had cut into the thin skin just above her heels. Her toes were blue from the cold. Why hadn't she worn boots, like any sane person would've done when there was still snow on the ground?

There was a note on the coffee table. Madge paused to pick it up on her way to her room. _Studying with Peeta. Looks like an all-nighter._ Madge rolled her eyes. Another all-nighter with Peeta. Big surprise. Katniss and Peeta weren't fooling anyone. She kept reading. _Breakfast before your recital? Text me._ Madge realized that her phone was still in her purse, and she was closer to her bed now than to the couch, where she'd left her purse, so Katniss was going to have to wait for an answer. No worries. Peeta was probably keeping her busy.

According to her alarm clock, it was 4:17. Breakfast wasn't going to happen anyway. Madge wiggled out of her dress. She slid under the covers, too tired to put on her pajamas. Besides, the heat was on full blast. Her recital was at noon, but the final rehearsal began at eleven. It took fifteen minutes to get from the dormitories to the concert hall. She'd need at least an hour to get ready. She totaled it all up and decided she had to be awake by 9:30, which gave her a little under five hours to sleep. Not ideal, but she'd worked with less.

She closed her eyes, snuggled deeper under the covers, and tried not to think about tomorrow. "The Wheels on the Bus" started up again in her head. Round and round, all through the town.

* * *

It had officially been five hours since he took the blue pills. As soon as he reached his dorm, Gale locked himself in the bathroom and made a few feeble attempts at jerking off. The pain stopped him from getting very far. By now, he wasn't so worried about going blind. _I heard about a guy who took that stuff and then his dick fell off,_ he imagined Bristel saying. Twenty dollars was most definitely not worth _that._ Neither was pride.

Grimacing, Gale pulled up his pants. He'd left his car at The Hob. Even if it was parked on campus, he was still a little too tipsy to drive. Thom's bedroom door was wide open, revealing an empty, unmade bed. God only knew where he'd ended up. Bristel lived off campus, too far away. Gale didn't have enough money for a taxi, leaving him with two options. Call 911 or…

He did not want to be picked up by an ambulance. That was the fastest way to spark a flood of curiosity. Come morning, the whole building would know that he'd been whisked off to the hospital because he couldn't unpitch his own tent. So, really, there was only the one option.

* * *

Madge woke to the thunderous wrath of God. That was her first drowsy thought. She quickly realized, however, that it was only someone trying to knock down their door. Probably Johanna. _Even worse than God_. Madge yanked the covers over her head, choosing to ignore whoever it was. Soon they would go away.

Ten minutes dragged by and the knocking didn't let up. Enough was enough. Madge threw back the covers and stomped barefoot across the common room. She was reaching for the door, when she remembered that she was only had on underwear. Eager to put an end to this awful night, she didn't bother returning to her room to dress. Instead she put on her coat, zipped it up from top to bottom, and then turned the deadbolt.

As she swung open the door, she said, "What the hell…," stopping short when she saw who'd woken her up. It wasn't Johanna, or Katniss, or anyone else she might've expected. It wasn't God, but that guess had been closer, because it was the devil himself standing in the hall.

"Katniss," said Gale, ignoring the look that Madge was giving him.

"Out," snapped Madge, already moving to slam the door in his face. Gale stuck out his foot to stop her.

"Out where?" he said.

"Why don't you call her? I'm not her personal secretary."

"Her phone's dead."

Madge let go of the door. He wouldn't leave until he had what he wanted. The fastest route back to bed was to simply tell him that Katniss was with Peeta. Now that she was wide awake, though, she felt a prick of curiosity. There was something off about Gale. His hands were shaking. For some reason, that unnerved her. His hands were always so...steady. Katniss was his cousin, not to mention best friend, but he'd never dropped by in the middle of the night like this. Well, not since freshman year, but _that_ bad been an extreme situation, which led Madge to believe that something terrible must have happened.

"Why do you need to talk to Katniss?" she asked.

"Private stuff," said Gale. "I'm kind of in a hurry," he said. The pain becoming incrementally worse. "So just tell me where she is."

"Studying with Peeta," said Madge.

 _Great,_ thought Gale. Whenever Katniss _studied_ with Peeta, she was unreachable. So much for friendship. Usually, he respected Katniss' space. It wasn't like he'd never left her hanging to hook up. _Maybe Undersee's right. I am a slut._ He'd almost forgotten about Madge. Red, sleep marks cut across her cheek. He felt a sudden stab of remorse for banging on her door like a crazed axe murderer at five in the morning.

"Why are you so twitchy?" she said. "Are you on something?"

"No," he said, too hastily.

Madge crossed her arms. She knew he was lying and he knew that she knew. Being a politician's daughter, she could smell bullshit from ten miles away. Gale didn't have time to play games with her, not now. He teetered on the edge of a full-fledged panic. "I need a ride to the hospital," he blurted.

"Why?" said Madge. She searched him for any visible sign of injury or illness. Aside from his pained expression, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him.

"Just for...reasons," he said.

"Fine," she said, shrugging. "Good luck." She went to close the door again. Gale knew what he had to do: swallow his pride, tell her the truth. He caught the door with his hand this time.

"I took some Viagra about six hours ago," he said in a rush. "And now...well…" He dropped his other hand, the one carefully positioned over his crotch, to reveal the tell-tale bulge in his pants.

"Why did you take…?" Madge paused. She probably didn't want to know the answer to her unfinished question. If she wasn't so tired, and so incredibly annoyed, she might have found his situation justly amusing. A six-hour boner was almost a poetic punishment for him. She was tempted to slam the door in his face, let him deal with the consequences of his asinine behavior. After all, it's not like he was bleeding to death. He could get himself to the hospital somehow. She didn't owe him a damn thing.

Except he had provided a buffer against those creepy men on the bus, though she hadn't asked, or needed, him to, and he looked so pitiful right now. If he was asking for her help, then he must be beyond desperate. Madge heaved a sigh.

"Alright," she said. "Give me a minute to dress."

* * *

Gale had to jack-knife his long legs between his torso and the dashboard of Undersee's Mini Cooper. He hated these types of cars, cutesy and European. There was no fidgeting room, not that he didn't try anyway. He couldn't remember ever being quite so uncomfortable.

Madge kept her eyes on the road ahead. As soon as they passed into the city limits, she let off on the gas, forced to creep along stop light by stop light, caught in the early morning commute to work.

"Can't you go any faster?" said Gale, drumming his fists against the dashboard. She ignored him. Obviously she couldn't drive faster. Besides, he deserved to suffer a little while longer. She crept up to the next stop light, wondering how she'd let herself get dragged into this.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Do what?" grunted Gale.

She shot him an irritated _you-know-what-I'm-talking-about_ look. "Thom dared me to," said Gale. She let out a snort. Of course. He was always getting into trouble over some stupid dare. She remembered in middle school when he'd gotten his foot stuck in a toilet, because someone dared him to.

"What's wrong with you?" she said, rolling up to the next light.

"I already told you, Undersee," said Gale. "My dick's been hard for over-"

"Not _that_ ," she said, turning red. "I mean, why do you always do things like this? Just because someone dares you to do something, doesn't mean you have to."

Gale shifted in the passenger seat. "You wouldn't understand," he said.

 _Probably not_ , she thought, looking back to the road. She'd known him for nearly all her life and she still didn't understand him. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath. Since she was doing him a rather large favor, he bit back his return insults. To be honest, he was still a little surprised that she hadn't left him hanging high and dry.

"You're wrong," he said, shifting again. "I can't turn down a dare."

She let out another snort. "It's easy. Just say no."

Gale shook his head. If it was really that easy, he wouldn't be here now. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she thought about him. She never bothered masking her disdain. Why should he bother explaining himself, when she wasn't really interested? Her mind about him had been made up a long time ago.

But talking was his only distraction from the growing panic and pain. "Look, it's not that simple, alright. When someone dares me to do something, I just...It's kind of like an addiction."

Madge rolled her eyes. Addicted to dares? That was a new one. She hadn't heard of it in her Psych 101 class. "You just want to show off," she said.

"You think I want this?" he said, gesturing to his lap.

"Yes," she said.

"Then you're crazy."

They hit another stoplight and she looked at him again, her face awash in red light. "You like the attention," she said. "Everyone look at me. I'm Gale Hawthorne and I'm not afraid of anything." She turned her eyes back to the road. "This isn't high school, though. No one's impressed."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," said Gale. "Or make anyone think I'm fearless. I just…" He trailed off.

"Just what?"

"I don't know," he said. "It's complicated. When there's a dare on the table, I have to take it. Sometimes it's worth the risk."

"Oh really?" said Madge, the corner of her lips twitching into a wry smile.

"Maybe not this time," he admitted. "But you'd be surprised what a dare can lead to. I met Brandon Flowers once because of a dare."

"Who?"

"Lead singer of The Killers."

"The what?"

"Oh, come on," said Gale. "I know you were raised in a plastic bubble, but you've got to know who The Killers are."

"Nope," said Madge. "Never heard of them."

He refused to believe her. "Somebody told me that you had a boyfriend who looked like the girlfriend that I had in February of last year," he half-sang, flat and tuneless. Madge burst out laughing as she turned into the hospital parking deck.

"Of course I've heard that song," she said, grinning at him. "I just wanted to make you sing it. You're terrible, by the way."

* * *

Madge regretted not bringing a book. There was nowhere more boring than a waiting room, contrary to what _E.R._ once led her to believe. She hated hospitals. Growing up, she spent a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms, left alone while her father talked to the doctors, the administrative staff, to everyone in the world, except his sick wife and lonely daughter.

Trying not to think about that painful time, she read over Gale's paperwork. He'd filled in everything, except for his social security number. The first two numbers always tripped him up. Was it _27_ or _72_?

"You're allergic to sesame seeds?" said Madge.

Gale shifted his arm to shield the paper from her view, like they were in high school and she was trying to cheat off of him. Only, in high school, he was usually the one doing the cheating. He scribbled down his social security number, hoping it was right. When he stood, a flash of blinding pain quickly brought him back down. He felt like he'd just been kicked in the groin.

"Shit," he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. Madge took the clipboard from his hands. When the pain subsided, and he opened his eyes again, she was already at the desk, chatting with the nurse as she handed over his paperwork. First she'd agreed to take him to the hospital, and now she was doing him favors without even being asked. Gale didn't understand why she was being _almost_ nice to him.

"Sweet woman," said Madge, nodding towards the receptionist as she settled back into the plastic chair beside him. "She says it shouldn't be a long wait."

"You can leave, if you want," said Gale. "I can take the bus home."

"I'm already here," she said, shrugging. She wasn't sure why she didn't just leave. If she did right now, she could maybe steal a nap before the recital. Then again, she doubted she'd be able to fall asleep again. Her second wind was blowing in.

"So," she said after a minute of silence. "Thom has erectile dysfunction."

Like on the bus, Gale was unprepared for her abrupt bluntness. "What? No," he said. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From you," she said. "He made the dare, so I assume he's the one who gave you the Viagra."

"He filched it from his dad over winter break," said Gale.

"Why?"

"Probably thought it was something else."

"Like what?"

"Christ, Undersee, I don't know," said Gale, running a hand over his face. "What's with all the questions?"

"Just trying to make conversation," she said.

"Well, can we talk about something else?"

"Sure."

Silence followed. Madge sought another topic. The first thing that leapt to her mind was the memory of Gale and Johanna in the Hob's grimy bathroom, but she definitely didn't want to talk about that, or even think about it.

Gale sat hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. He turned to look at Madge, his cheek cupped in his hand. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't thank me," she said, meeting his gaze. "The next time someone dares you to do something stupid, just don't rise _-_ " her eyes, flashing mischievously, darted to his crotch, "-to the occasion."

"Very funny, Undersee," he said. If she wanted to play _that_ game, so be it. He scooted closer to her, until their legs pressed together and their lips were only a few inches apart. "I already told you, though, I can't say no to a dare. There's a rush to it. Better than sex." As he expected, her face went crimson. Unexpectedly, she didn't withdraw.

"What if I dared you not to accept any more dares?" she said.

"Or you could dare me to take you into that broom closet over there and fuck your-"

Madge shoved him back. "You can't even stand up," she said.

"Rain check then," said Gale, returning to his hunched position.

Before she could get out the _never_ in _never going to happen_ , a doctor strode into the waiting room. "Gale Hawthorne," he said, reading from the chart in his hands. "We're ready for you."

"Good luck," said Madge. Clearly, she was enjoying herself. _Fair enough,_ thought Gale, shuffling after the doctor. Thom and Bristel would've dished out a hell of alot worse.

* * *

She was alone in the waiting room, so she held out her hands over an imaginary piano and went through the motions of Franz Liszt's _La Campanella._ It was the only recital piece she struggled with. For weeks and weeks, she'd been practicing, but her timing still felt off. She counted the measures. _One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four._ Eighth note, eighth note, sixteenth, sixteenth, eighth, sixteenth. Her fingers danced rapidly across the empty air, but the music in her head didn't sound right.

After a while, her hands dropped motionless into her lap. She checked the time. 7:13. A part of her hoped to miss the recital. She wasn't ready. She wasn't perfect yet and the thought of being anything less terrified her. For once, she wished she could be a little more like Gale Hawthorne. Fearless, reckless, daring.

* * *

The doctor didn't ask many questions. He had Gale drop his pants, inspected the problem, and then gave him a paper cup with two pills inside. Gale swallowed them dry. Then there was nothing to do but wait.

"If this doesn't work," said the doctor, "then we'll have to drain the blood."

Gale crossed his fingers, praying it wouldn't come to that. For once, he wished he was a little more like Madge Undersee. Practical, prudent, cautious. Thankfully, the pills worked.

* * *

Even though Madge had said that she would wait, Gale didn't really expect her to, but there she was, right where he'd left her, fast asleep, curled up like a cat in her plastic seat. How long had she been waiting? He checked the time. 8:36. She probably would've left a long time ago, if she hadn't fallen asleep, and he was glad that she had. Taking the bus, he wouldn't get back to campus for another two hours.

"Undersee," he said, poking her shoulder.

Madge jerked awake. "Dad?" she said, groggy and confused. For a moment, she felt like a little girl again, being woken up by her father in a hospital waiting room when it was time to go. Then the sleep cleared from her eyes and she recognized Gale, smirking down at her. _Oh shit, did I just call him Dad?_ She waited for him to raise an eyebrow and throw out some Freudian innuendo.

In just a few seconds, Gale came up with a dozen such wisecracks, but he decided to file them away for another day. "Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Madge unfurled. She stood, took one step, and toppled forward. Gale caught her arm to steady her. "You alright there, Undersee?" he asked. She couldn't feel her feet at all. Did she even have feet? Then the pins and needles hit.

"Give me a second," she said, grimacing as blood rushed back into her feet. She took a shaky step when the tingling sensation dulled a little. Gale looped his arm through her's and she didn't complain. Her second wind was gone. She was drop dead tired, but there was no time left for sleep.

When they reached her car, Gale steered her to the passenger side and threw open the door. "I'll drive," he said, holding out his hand for the keys. Madge hesitated, leaning against the car. If he drove, she could sleep. But did she really want to put him in the driver's seat? It didn't strike her as the best idea.

"I'm a good driver," said Gale, reading her doubtful expression. "Passed my test with flying colors."

Madge sighed. She fished her keys out of her purse and held them over his open palm. "If you wreck my car," she said, eyeing him sternly, "then I'll make sure the whole school finds out about tonight."

 _Spoken like a politician's daughter,_ thought Gale, taking the threat to heart. On the surface, Madge was sweet, unassuming, and innocent, but he'd seen her tear down her enemies in high school with a simple rumor whispered in the right ears. She knew how to sabotage, while keeping her own cleans. Gale had always been careful not to push her too far, though he often came dangerously close.

* * *

Madge was too anxious to sleep. She stared at the speedometer. Everytime he crept close to 50, her fingers curled around the seatbelt strap across her chest. Gale noticed the reaction from the corner of his eye.

"I've got three younger sibling to shuttle around," he said, easing onto the highway. "Trust me, I'm the most defensive driver you'll ever meet."

Madge didn't say anything. She didn't relax, either. It wasn't easy to trust the boy who once crashed a four-wheeler into the storefront of the Mass General Store. Of course, he was only eleven at the time. Then again, he hadn't changed much since then. Not that she could see. Not if tonight was any proof.

"You want to get breakfast?" said Gale. "On me."

"Can't," said Madge, glancing at the radio clock. 9:13. "I've got a final rehearsal at eleven."

"For what?"

"Piano recital," she said. She felt like her stomach was full of led balls, not butterflies. "It's kind of like a mid-term."

Gale braked a little too hard. He whipped his around to face her. "You've got a midterm today? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Um, you didn't ask."

"You shouldn't have stayed at the hospital," he said. "I don't want you to fail your midterm because of me."

"I won't fail," said Madge, with more confidence than she actually felt. "Besides, why do you care? You think my major's a joke. Only rich snobs waste tens of thousands of dollars on something trivial like music."

Gale was impressed with her imitation of him. That did sound like something he would say. In fact, he probably had said it, just to annoy her, because it wasn't something he believed. "I don't think music's trivial," he said. "I used to play guitar, you know."

"Used to?" she said, prying again despite her better judgment. That was the problem with Gale Hawthorne. Well, she had a lot of problems with him, but one of the worst was how he sucked her in the few times they found themselves alone together. From a distance, disliking him was easy. Up close, he was a puzzle she couldn't solve, and she was normally a genius with puzzles.

"I just stopped playing," said Gale. His jaw tensed. "My dad was the one who taught me."

"Oh," said Madge, not knowing what else to say. He hadn't mentioned his father to her since that night freshman year, the last time he woke her up in the middle of the night.

Gale cleared his throat. "I was never much good, anyways," he said. "But you've got real talent. It'd be a shame to let that go to waste. The world can always use more music." Something his father used to say.

Madge blushed, glad that his eyes were on the road. "You've never even heard me play," she said. Gale glanced at her and she ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her face.

"Yeah, I have," he said. "Katniss used to drag me to all of your concerts, before Peeta started going with her. You know how she hates being in public by herself."

So the compliment was genuine and not just a means to get her into a broom closet. For some reason, that made her more uncomfortable than anything else he'd done or said tonight. She didn't have long to think about it, though. Gale pressed down on the gas and zipped around the semi-truck ahead of them. After he passed, he didn't slow down.

"Gale," said Madge, a warning in her tone.

"Go back to sleep, Undersee," he said. "I'll get you home safe."

 _Again_ , thought Madge. Annoying as he'd been earlier, on their first return journey to campus, and as much as she wanted to be independent, having him following along behind her, whistling "The Wheel on the Bus," had made her feel safe. He was reckless, but not untrustworthy. He did a lot of stupid things, sure, but he never endangered anyone, besides himself.

"Just don't go too fast," she said, scooting down into the passenger seat. She rested her head against the cool window, deafened by the rushing wind buffering against the side of the car, and closed her eyes. After a minute, Gale turned on the radio. He kept the volume at a low, soothing murmur, lulling Madge back into the arms of exhaustion. He hummed tunelessly along to a song she didn't know.

 _The world can always use more music_ , she thought, tucking the line away before she fell asleep and forgot it. Who knew Gale Hawthorne would ever say something quoteworthy? Another piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit. Daredevil, slut, secret philosopher...he just didn't make any sense. Not yet.

* * *

Gale made it to campus in record time. Madge was drooling on the window, out cold. He decided to let her sleep a little while longer. Really, he felt too guilty to wake her up. Moments like this, where they ended up together by accident and misadventure, he wondered what exactly the two of them were. Friends was too strong a word. Acquaintances wasn't strong enough. He supposed, in a way, they were something like family. They came from the same place. Their histories overlapped. He teased her for being so uptight, while taking for granted that he could always count on her in an emergency situation.

He liked that she was dependable, but he would never admit to it. After all, he had an image to uphold. More importantly, he had himself to protect. Because he wasn't certain what Madge was to him, he tread carefully. With his hook-ups, and even with his friends, he kept his distance. Katniss was the only person he let see the darker side of him, the grief he still felt, like a gluttonous black hole, almost two years after his father's death. Katniss was his cousin, she was blood. But Madge…?

Gale didn't want to think about it anymore. He reached across the middle console to shake Madge's arm. "Rise and shine, Princess." She didn't startle awake this time and he wondered if she'd even been asleep. She immediately looked to the glowing green radio clock. 9:47.

"Shit," she said, shouldering open the passenger side door. She spilled out of the car and took off across the parking lot.

"Hold up," Gale called after her. "You forgot your…" Madge was already gone. For someone running on only a couple hours of sleep, she moved freakishly fast. Clutching her car keys in his fist, Gale followed after her, though he didn't run. He was way too tired for that shit.

* * *

Madge had picked out her outfit before going to The Hob with Johanna. She tugged the black dress up over her hips and jammed her arms into the fitted long sleeves. She hopped around the room, gathering her sheet music, with notes filling every margin, as she put on her stockings. Her hair was hopeless. There wasn't time to salvage the crumpled curls, so she twisted the the tangled mess into a painfully tight bun and clipped back her cowlicked bangs. A little makeup to cover the circles under her eyes.

 _Good enough,_ she thought, giving herself a final once over in the bathroom's full-length mirror. She threw on her coat as she crossed the common room, pushed open the door, and collided with something solid and unexpected.

Gale leapt back in time to keep the coffee in his hand from sloshing onto her dress. "You forgot you keys," he said, holding them out to her. "And I thought you might need this," he added, offering up the coffee cup as well.

"Um, thanks," said Madge, taking the keys, and then the coffee. The paper cup was hot, fresh from the kiosk. As far as she remembered, he'd never given her anything before, not so much as paperclip.

"No problem, Undersee," said Gale. "I owed you something. Better get going. Don't want to keep your audience waiting."

 _Right, the recital._ She'd forgotten about it for a second. Gale had that effect on her. He was a bad influence. Reminded of her responsibilities, she darted around him, moving at only a half-sprint, so as not to spill the coffee.

"Just picture them in their underwear," shouted Gale, leaning against the door to her room, right where she'd left him. "That's what I used to do with you at all those recitals last year."

Madge flipped him off as she rounded the corner and hit the steps, taking them two at a time.

* * *

 **Just a few things:**

1) I'm currently plotting out the sequel to Procreate, since it's going to be a bit more complex than the first installment, so expect to suffer an indeterminate waiting period.

2) Which leads us to the second thing...Here's a contemporary AU to hopefully hold you over. I've been wanting to dabble into this area for awhile now, so you might see more of these before the grand unveiling of Procreate's sequel.

3) Lastly, I regret to inform anyone reading "Riches to Rags," that the story is on a definite hiatus. I'm way too involved with all of the AU stuff to write canon at the moment.

Over and out, fellow Gadge lovers :)


	2. Control Freak

**AN:** This is purely Gadge smut (explicit) and I am not ashamed, haha ;)

* * *

 **SENIOR YEAR**

Madge Undersee was a total control freak. She had a system for everything, from the way she folded her clothes to the way she had sex. It's not that Gale had ever complained about her need to be on top and in command. He loved how serious she was about the whole thing, her face screwed up in concentration as she rode with a purpose, using him as a means to an end. That was fine. He enjoyed the end just as much as she did, but lately his thoughts had begun to drift during the beginning and middle parts.

So he'd bought the handcuffs and now they were fighting.

"You're that bored of me already," said Madge, flinging the cuffs at him. He leapt aside just in time.

"I'm not bored," he said. "It's just…"

"Just what?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"You don't trust me." There. He finally said it.

Madge rolled her eyes. "Right, I won't let you tie me up. Therefore, I don't trust you," she said scathingly. "That's a load of crap."

"It's the truth," said Gale, his voice rising despite his efforts to keep calm. "You always get to call the shots and I'm supposed to just lay there. Christ, Undersee, you barely let me touch you at all. Last night, you slapped me when I tried to-"

"I've told you I'm not comfortable with _that_ ," she cut him off, blushing furiously now.

"You go down on me all of the time," he said. "You don't seem uncomfortable with it then."

"That's different."

"Yeah, because I trust you," he said, exasperated. "Because that's what normal people do in a healthy relationship, but you're such a goddamn control freak." Oops. He wasn't supposed to call her that out loud. The only other time those two little words slipped out, she didn't speak to him for a month, not until he camped out in the hallway of her apartment for two nights and the landlord threatened to toss her out.

"Go," she said, pointing to the door.

"Madge, you know I didn't mean any-"

"Go," she said again.

"Can we please just talk about this like rational adults?" said Gale, stepping towards her. She darted away, putting the bed between them.

"Get out, Hawthorne," she growled. "Right now."

Gale held up his hands and backed towards the door. "Fine," he said. "I'm going."

He didn't go far. This wouldn't be like last time. He'd give her a few hours to cool off. Then he was going back in. They _were_ going to talk about this, even if he had to handcuff her for nothing more than a conversation. He loved her, but until she trusted him, they couldn't move forward. He tried to be patient, but it just wasn't in his nature.

Gale flipped absentmindedly through the channels. He kept the volume low, his ears strained for the slightest sound from the bedroom. Madge was a quiet crier. She never let him see her do it. Part of that whole control freak thing. She was always the first to offer comfort to anyone in need, but refused to be comforted in return. Being the mayor's daughter in a time of small-town political tensions and a nation wide recession had really done a number on her.

More than anything, he just wanted her to know that she was perfect without needing to try. He wanted to hold her while she cried and then kiss the tears from her cheeks and eyelashes. He wanted her to trust him enough to be vulnerable. Not even an hour had gone by before Gale gave up on waiting. She wasn't going to cry alone this time.

He expected the bedroom door to be locked, but the knob turned with a click. He swung it open, prepared for round two, and then had a major heart attack at the sight of Madge on the bed, stripped down to just underwear, one of her hands cuffed to the headboard.

"So," she said, crossing her legs primly at the ankles. "You wanted to talk like rational adults."

Talk? He couldn't talk now. There were other, more important things his mouth needed to do. Like...But no, they really did need to talk. He wouldn't let her trick him into forgetting their fight. Gale crossed the room in a flash and cuffed her other hand to the headboard, just to be safe.

"Okay, let's talk," he said. Then nothing. Cuffing her other hand had been a mistake, making her only more tempting, more dangerous. She licked her lips and he swore it was intentional.

"I do trust you," she said, breaking the silence first. Gale's wandering eyes locked onto her's. "Let me prove it."

"How?" he asked.

Madge rolled her eyes. "Well, I thought that was kind of obvious," she said, shaking her wrists. The cuffs thunked against the headboard. "You can do anything you want with no fear of being slapped."

"Anything?" he asked, moving to the foot of the bed and uncrossing her ankles. He kissed the soft, pink sole of each foot before placing them on either side of his waist, so that he was kneeling between her open legs.

"Yes, anything," said Madge, her voice steady with conviction, her body trembling. He kissed both knees, the inside of her thighs, then the small satin bow at the waistband of her panties. He kissed his way up her stomach, pausing briefly to rim her cute, little belly button with his tongue. Her abdominal muscles clenched around a nervous giggle.

"That tickles," she said. So he did it one more time before moving on to the valley of smooth white skin between her breasts, then the hollow of her collarbone, her chin...His lips hovered over hers. She lifted her head to catch them, but he pulled away, retracing his trail of kisses back down.

Gale hooked two fingers around the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down to her ankles. Once they were off, he straightened up to admire the patch of downy blonde curls between her legs. He pressed his palms to her thighs to part them.

"You're sure?" he asked, glancing up at her face. Her lips were pressed tightly together, so she answered by arching her back to bring her closer to his eager mouth. God, he'd wanted to do this for ages, to taste her, to lap up every last drop of her arousal. It took a great deal of self-control not to to dive right in, but he didn't want to startle her, so he started slow, running one finger over her rose pink slit, and then repeating the movement with his tongue, teasing her open just a little.

"Oh," she gasped in surprise when his teeth grazed lightly over her clit. Gale smiled into her. He wanted to surprise her again, and again, and again, until she was screaming _oh, oh, oh!_ He wanted to show her that trust was a beautiful thing. He sucked and nibbled and sampled, taking his time to learn the lay of this newly discovered land. Once he had her all mapped out, he got to work for real. Every few minutes, his eyes darted to Madge's face again. Her lips were still pressed tight, her eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard through her nose, clinging desperately to her self-control. That wouldn't do.

"Look at me," he ordered, lifting his head.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes half way. They went wide, though, when he pushed two fingers into her and spread them as far as her throbbing, warm walls would allow. "Relax," he said, lowering his head again. He slid out to his fingertips, covered her clit with his mouth, and slid back in up to his knuckles. Soon, she was gushing all over his face and hand. He forgot about taking things slow. His fingers pumped harder, faster.

"Oh!"she cried again, her legs beginning to shake. Her hips jerked upwards and he threw his free arm across her sweat slick stomach to hold her down. "Gale," she protested. "Please, just let me-"

"Nope," he said, curling his fingers inside of her. She gave a strangled groan of part pleasure, part frustration.

"But I-"

"No."

Madge pouted. She wasn't used to that word. Before she got too angry, he dove in again with even more enthusiasm than before. It became impossible to hold her down, especially when most of his concentration was on other things. Soon enough, she got her way, and was able to buck her hips to her heart's content. To retaliate, he put both of his hands to good work, stroking her quivering thighs. Madge mewled like a kitten. He spelled out his name with his tongue over her clit.

"Oh yes," she gasped. "Yes please." Just those two little words nearly made him jizz his pants, which he hadn't done since middle school. When she wrapped her legs over his shoulders, he didn't bother trying to stop her. Her hips and his mouth fought each other for control.

"Yes, yes, oh God, yes,"panted Madge, her eyelids fluttering rapidly in ecstasy. "Ga...Gale, I'm...I'm…" Her thighs constricted around his head. A string of half moans, half sobs burst from her lips as she let go completely. Gale was happy to ride out the waves. When it was over, he slipped out from under her legs, which flopped limp to the bed.

Madge kept her eyes closed as he uncuffed her; a dopey smile slapped across her face. He only got one hand undone before he had to kiss her on the mouth. Her grin widened against his lips.

"Do it again," she ordered when he pulled away.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Gale. He could spend forever going down on Madge. But first he freed her other hand. This time, it would be a fair fight.

* * *

 **AN continued:** To anyone reading Riches to Rags, I've been editing and whatnot, so expect new updates soon-ish!


	3. Rule One

**SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **March**

Dinner with the Undersee's. Rule 1) wear a fucking tie.

* * *

"Purple or red?" said Gale, holding up two ties, one in each hand. There were six more strewn across the bed and another three draped over his shoulders. When Madge had told him not to worry about his clothes, that she would handle it, he didn't think she was going to buy half of the men's department store.

"Purple," said Madge. "If you wear the red, he might assume you're a Republican."

"Then why'd you even buy it?" said Gale, exasperated beyond endurance. He glared at the pile of clothes on the bed behind him. A small fortune wasted. Sometimes he forgot how deep his girlfriend's pockets were. She kept her wealth fairly hidden, because she was embarrassed by her privilege. Gale supposed he was partially to blame, considering all of the times he'd called her a spoiled brat when they were in high school.

He didn't care that her family was rich. Not anymore. It just made him uncomfortable that she felt the need to spend hundreds of dollars to make him presentable for her parents, because clearly, he wasn't good enough the way he was.

"Stop scowling," huffed Madge. She stepped up to him, snatched the purple tie from his hand, and looped it around the back of his neck, under his collar. "I'm going to return everything. If you'd gone shopping with me, then I wouldn't have needed to buy so much in the first place."

Gale rolled his eyes. _Not this again._ He went shopping once a year. So far, the system had yet to fail him. "I let you measure me," he said, brushing aside her hands. "And I can dress myself, goddamnit."

"Fine," snapped Madge, spinning away from him. She marched over to the closet and returned to searching for her own outfit, violently sliding hangers across the bar. Gale fumbled with the tie. Earlier, while Madge was in the shower, he'd studied various Google image diagrams on tie-knots. The steps were basic, nowhere near as tricky as a poacher's knot. He hadn't accounted for material, though. Flimsy silk slipped through his fingers. If only he had a sturdy length of rope... _a noose._

Gale decided to take a break from the tie. His inability to make such a simple knot only aggravated his already simmering temper. He needed a moment to calm down, stop overreacting. _I'm not on death row. It's just dinner...with the mayor of my home city._ He felt sick. Six months of dating was too soon to meet the parents. A hundred years would be too soon. Why the fuck had he agreed to _this_?

"I'm sorry," said Madge, spinning around to face him. "This is stupid. You don't have to come with me. I shouldn't have asked."

One look into those big, blue eyes and Gale remembered exactly why he'd agreed to break his own rules and meet her parents. The reason was simple. He loved her. If she asked him to have a portrait of George W. Bush tattooed to ass, then he'd do it. If she asked him to walk blindfolded across Main Street, then he'd do it, on the faith that she'd keep him out of harm's way. She hated her parents, but for some reason, it was important to her for him to meet them. Gale didn't need to understand. He loved her. That was enough.

"You already told them I was coming," he said. "No backing out now, right?"

"I'll tell them you're sick," said Madge. "Or that you had a family emergency, or-"

Gale crossed the room, took hold of her hips, and pulled her close. "It's fine," he said. Then he kissed her forehead, smoothing out the furrows with his lips. "I said I would go, so that's what I'm going to do.

"But-"

He cut her off with another kiss, this one lips to lips. Any further protest on Madge's part fell away. She threw her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to let him in. Only when he cupped her ass in both hands and squeezed, did she remember that they'd been in the middle of a conversation. She put her hands to his chest and pushed him back a little.

"I hate when you do that," she said.

"Then why are you smiling?" said Gale. She gave him another shove, and then turned back to the closet, still smiling. Incorrigible, as always, he snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, sucking, and biting, and swirling his tongue over her favorite spot, just above her shoulder. Madge tried to ignore him. She couldn't. Instinctively, her head tipped to the side to give him better access.

"If I don't get dressed now, we'll be late," she said.

"I like what you're already wearing," said Gale, sliding his hands under her gray t-shirt. Well, it was his shirt. Frankly, she wore it better, especially without pants. He found her breasts under the loose, shapeless fabric. Her nipples were already rock hard. She drew a sharp breath when he pinched them. God, she wanted him, right now, right here. She wanted him to do that trick with his…

Madge was losing her head. In a desperate move to save herself, she elbowed him in the stomach. Gale doubled over with a grunt and she took the chance to escape. The moment she slipped free of his embrace, she regained control over her unruly body. For the most part.

"You could have just told me to stop," said Gale, clutching his stomach. Madge wished it was that easy. He was, and always had been, the only person who could unravel her. He didn't even have to try hard. Sometimes it terrified her how easily he stole her self-control. A touch here, a touch there, a crooked grin. Most of the time, though, it thrilled her, to be unrestrained, unleashed. But tonight, she needed to be firm. First impressions were important to her father, so was punctuality.

"If we're going to do this," she said, eyeing him sternly, "then we have to do it right. Do you understand?"

Gale stood to attention and saluted her. "Understood, Ma'am." He dropped his arm, and the act, and swooped in for a quick kiss on her cheek. "It's going to be fine," he said, stepping back. "Wear the purple dress," he suggested. "It'll match my tie."

Madge took down the dress and held it up to her. "You don't think it's too short?"

Gale chuckled. As if he was ever going to say _yes_ to that question. "Just wear it," he said. "You got to chose my outfit. Fair is fair."

"I'll try it on," she said, hanging the dress on the doorknob, freeing her hands to tug his t-shirt over her head. When she surfaced, her arms still stuck through the sleeves and the shirt bunched across her chest, she added, "No promises, though." Then the turned her bare back to him and let the shirt slide down her arms, to the floor.

Gale watched her step into the dress. It really was one of his favorites. The dark purple, with a sheen of red, slid deliciously over her pale skin. She reached behind her back for the zipper.

"I've got it," said Gale, stepping forward. His fingertips grazed over her spine as he pulled up the zipper, slowly, careful not to pinch her skin between the metal teeth. Madge inspected herself in the mirror. The dress was tightly fitted from the waist to the lace-capped sleeves. The neckline was low, without showing cleavage, not that she had much to show. As for length, it wasn't as short as it looked on the hanger. The hem flared a few inches above the knee.

"You're perfect," said Gale, his reflection smiling at her. She turned around to see the real thing. All her life, she'd strived for perfection, hoping that if she achieved it, she could win over a fragment of her parents' affection, but nothing was ever good enough for them. That's why tonight was so important to her. She wanted them to see the way Gale looked at her, like she was a stellar anomaly. She wanted them to know that she was perfect to someone, even if she'd never been good enough for them.

"Well, your tie is crooked," she said, straightening it for him. Then she pushed up onto her tiptoes to drop a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Now you're perfect too."

* * *

 **AN:** To be continued...


	4. Moving On

**JUNIOR YEAR (college)**

 **May**

It was Katniss' turn to pick the movie. Madge found her in the horror section, holding a DVD case in each hand, mentally and physically weighing them against each other.

"Please not that one again," said Madge, catching the title of the movie in Katniss' left hand. _Nosferatu_. She was all for a no dialogue, black-and-white classic set to orchestral music, but after watching the same film over a dozen times, the charm had worn off. The movie wasn't even scary. It was just odd.

"Okay," said Katniss, putting _Nosferatu_ back on the shelf. "Guess it's this one, then." She held up the other movie. _Let the Right One In._ Madge snatched it from her hand and read the back cover.

"What's with the vampire obsession?" she asked after she finished. "Did Prim trick you into reading _Twilight_?"

Katniss feigned a look of sheer horror. "I would never," she said, stealing back the movie. "I did read this one over the summer, though. Been meaning to check out the movie for awhile, but if you want to keep looking, we can."

"No," said Madge. It wasn't her night to chose the movie. Rules were rules. "It sounds... interesting. I'll run to the store for provisions while you check out here."

"Don't forget the-"

"Triple pepperoni pizza rolls," Madge finished for her. Honestly, after four years of living together, Katniss still reminded her about the pizza rolls. She turned around, hiding her smile from Katniss. Horror movies weren't really her cup of tea, neither were the mafia films, Katniss' other genre of choice, but that didn't matter. Regardless what they watched, Madge was sure to enjoy herself.

Over the past year, even though they still lived together, they saw less of each other than ever before. Whenever Katniss wasn't in the library, she was with Peeta. Whenever Madge wasn't in the studio, she volunteered for a local music program, tutoring elementary school students. Movie night, however, was sacred. They'd started the Wednesday tradition their freshman year. No boyfriends. No school talk. No worries. Phones off. Laptops closed. Just the two of them, stuffing their faces with junk food, arguing light heartedly about the differences in their movie tastes.

* * *

The pizza rolls were in the oven. Madge kept an eye on them while Katniss mixed up a pitcher of her signature drink, one-third Orange Fanta and two-thirds vodka, which they called Fanta Fantastic. Katniss was unusually quiet tonight, not that she was ever a big talker, but Madge knew the difference between her normal silence and her _I've got bad news, but don't know how to tell you_ silence.

"Just spit it out," said Madge, tired of waiting.

Katniss's hand froze mid-stir. "Spit what out?"

"Whatever you don't want to tell me."

Katniss set the wooden spoon down on the counter. "Later," she said, pouring each of them a generous portions of Fanta Fantastic.

"Are you trying to get me drunk first?" said Madge, taking the glass she was offered. Katniss grinned at her.

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Is it really that bad?" asked Madge. She felt a prick of worry, but Katniss refused to say anymore on the subject. For a week, she'd been searching for the right time, and the right words, to talk to Madge. Truthfully, she was trying to get herself drunk, in the hopes that it would make her confession easier to voice.

The timer went off. "Movie first," said Katniss, as she slid the hot baking sheet out of the oven. "Then I'll tell you."

"Fine," said Madge, knowing it was pointless to argue. Katniss did things on her own time. The more she was rushed, the more reluctant she'd become. She would talk when she ready and not a moment sooner. "I'll get the DVD player set up," said Madge. "Bring in the feast when it's finished."

"Aye, aye, Captain," said Katniss. She traded out the pizza rolls for the tater tots. They had more food than they could possibly eat, but that was part of the tradition.

* * *

Madge took the couch. She wiggled her barefeet between the faded, threadbare cushions and picked at her plate, piled high with fatty calories. She couldn't concentrate on the subtitles flashing across the bottom of the T.V. Neither could Katniss. She regretted her movie choice now, wishing she'd gone for something in English tonight. She felt Madge watching her, more intently than the screen. After an hour, and two glasses of Fanta Fantastic, Katniss finally faced her roommate.

"Alright," she sighed. "I'll tell you."

"You're a vampire," guessed Madge, trying to lighten the tension. It didn't work. Katniss didn't crack so much as a half smile.

"Peeta asked me to move in with him," she said, dead serious, as if she was announcing the end of the world. Madge couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing, clutching her stomach, gasping for air.

"I'm serious," said Katniss, frowning now. "I said yes. We've already started looking for apartments."

Madge wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. "That's it?" she said. "I already knew about that."

"What?" said Katniss, eyes widening in surprise.

"Peeta told me he was going to ask you," said Madge. "Like a month ago."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Madge shrugged. "Because it's not any of my business. I knew you'd tell me eventually."

There was silence for a moment. Katniss turned back to the television. She read the white text at the bottom of the screen. _Thank you again for another evening steeped in merriment and friendship._ "You're not upset?" she asked.

"Of course not," said Madge. "I've been expecting this for awhile now. I mean, it's not like we can live together forever, and you and Peeta have been moving in this direction for years."

"But what are you going to do?" said Katniss. Though she was excited, and a little terrified, of living with Peeta, she hated to ditch Madge. Their life together was comfortable, familiar, safe.

"I'll figure something out," said Madge. She didn't want Katniss to worry about her. She just wanted her friend to be happy and Peeta made her hopelessly, sickeningly happy. "But you have to promise me one thing. We'll still have movie night."

Katniss smiled. She felt foolish for dreading this conversation. Of course Madge wasn't angry. Of course she didn't get all weepy, something Katniss couldn't stand. There was a reason they were best friends. At first glance, they were complete opposites. They didn't like the same movies, but they shared certain life philosophies. _Steer clear of drama. Put on a brave face. Keep on keeping on._

* * *

When the packing began, Madge realized how much of their stuff actually belonged to Peeta. Katniss' possession amounted to a total of two cardboard boxes, the other thirty boxes belonged to Peeta, most of it kitchen appliances. Though he didn't officially live with them, he spent more time in their kitchen than his own. _I'm going to miss having a private chef_ , thought Madge, staring at the empty cupboards. _I'm also going to have to buy all new cookware._

She'd known Katniss was moving out even before Katniss did, but it wasn't until now, standing alone in their apartment, surrounded by boxes, that reality fully hit. They'd lived together for so long, she couldn't imagine living with someone else, or worse, living alone. It was too empty in here without Katniss.

Then she heard Gale in the living room. "Remind me again why your boyfriend isn't here moving his own shit?"

"Stop whining," said Katniss, tired of answering the same question. Gale knew where Peeta was. Months ago, on a whim, he'd submitted a few of his paintings to some new gallery in New York. He was there now setting up for the show. Madge and Katniss were flying out tomorrow for the gallery opening. It wasn't the Met or anything, but there had been a small announcement in the New York Times. Still standing alone in the kitchen, Madge looked to the article taped to the fridge. _Introducing Peter Mellark,_ she read, smiling to herself at the misspelling. The humble beginnings of fame and glory.

"He offered to pay you," said Katniss from the other room.

"I don't want his money," said Gale.

"Well, if it's that much of an inconvenience, I'll hire a truck."

"They're just going to rip you off."

"Better than listening to you gripe for another hour," said Katniss, her voice strained. Moving was stressful for everyone. For Katniss, though, who loathed change with every cell in her body, moving was an absolute nightmare. _Time to intervene_.

"Peeta's probably landed by now," said Madge, breezing into the living room, pretending that she hadn't been eavesdropping. "Why don't you give him a call? We'll load up the last of the boxes." Her eyes, sweet and deadly, locked onto Gale. "Right, Hawthorne?"

"Guess that's what I'm here for," he said, still sullen, but intimidated into submission by

Undersee's subtle remonstration. As soon as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, she spun around, hands on her hips, nothing sweet left in her expression.

"You promised not to be a jerk today," she hissed. "You know how much she's already

freaking, without your crap, and everyone knows that you don't approve of her and Peeta moving in together, but it's not your decision, so suck it up or fuck off."

"You finished?" said Gale. Throughout her rant, a crooked smile crept across his lips. She

hated that he never took her seriously.

"Lay off of Katniss," said Madge. There, now she was finished. She bent over for the box

at her feet and hefted it up into her arms, jutting out her hip for added support. Her bangs fell into her eyes. She tried to blow them aside, but the sweaty hair stayed glued to her forehead.

"Here, I've got it," said Gale, sliding his arms under the box.

"It's fine," said Madge, digging her nails into the cardboard.

"You'll break your neck on the stairs," he said, pulling the box towards him.

"No, I won't," she said, refusing to let go. She'd moved into this apartment with just Katniss and Peeta. She'd carried heavier boxes up the stairs, so she could certainly carry them down.

"Just let go, Undersee," said Gale.

"You let go."

The bottom of the box gave out and they both let go. Pots, and pans, and baking sheets hit the linoleum with an ear-splitting crash. A lone plastic bowl rolled across the floor. Madge watched it spin to a stop. There was a moment of stark silence. She caught Gale's eye and they erupted into laughter. When Katniss came skidding panicked into the kitchen, their laughter only intensified.

* * *

At the last minute, Katniss and Peeta decided to spend a few extra days in the Big Apple. They begged Madge to stay with them, but she had work in the tomorrow morning, class in the afternoon, and frankly, she was a little tired of being the third wheel. Not that Katniss and Peeta ever forgot about her. Sometimes, though, she felt they were trying too hard to be inclusive

Madge wove through the weary ex-passengers gathering at the baggage claim. She was glad she'd only brought a carry-on. After a four hour flight, the last thing she wanted was to hang around for another hour, waiting for the conveyor belt to spit out her bag. She spotted Gale by the exit and hurriedly shuffled over to him.

"You're late, Undersee," he said.

Madge rolled her eyes. "Sorry I can't control the weather."

Gale chuckled. He'd been waiting for her plane to land for the past three hours, but he wasn't angry, just happy that she'd finally arrived, safe and whole. Flying made him nervous, even when he wasn't the one doing the flying. In his opinion, people were meant to stay on the ground. He took Madge's duffel, slung it over his shoulder, and led her outside. Black clouds rolled across the deep blue twilight.

"Looks like the storm followed you home," said Gale, his head tipped back to the sky.

"Come on," said Madge, slipping her arm through his and pulling him along. She'd had enough of storms and clouds for one day.

"How was the show?" said Gale as they crossed the parking lot.

"It went really well. They even commissioned Peeta for some new pieces. Everyone raved about that painting of you and Prim. You know the one where she's giving you a pedicure?"

Gale's lips twisted into a grimace. Yes, he knew the one, and he regretted ever giving Peeta permission to paint him. But what was done was done. "Of course that was everyone's favorite," he said, shooting Madge a grin. "I'm a work of art on and off canvas. Just look at this face. Carved by the gods themselves."

Lightning forked in the distance. "Careful," said Madge, smiling back at him. "The gods might strike you down. They don't like hubris."

"Bring it on, Zeus," he said, shouting at the black clouds above. Madge stepped away from him, just in case. She didn't much feel like being smited tonight.

* * *

The sky burst just before Gale's truck grumbled to a halt. Rain beat against the windows, making it impossible to see anything, still she pressed her nose to the glass and squinted towards her apartment building. A part of her expected Katniss to be waiting inside. After awhile, the rain let up, but Madge didn't want to get out of the truck. She could see the apartment building now. All the windows on the third floor were blacked-out. There was no one waiting for her.

"Do you want to come in?" she said, turning to Gale. "I think there's some beer in the fridge. Not much food, but I can order something, if you're hungry." She cringed at how pleading she sounded. Why couldn't she ever just be casual? The request wasn't odd. They were...friends. More or less.

"Alright," said Gale, insufferably casual, as always.

* * *

Madge stood in the middle of the living room, where the couch used to be. She regretted insisting that Katniss take it. They'd bought the couch together, price split down the middle, when they first moved in. The cushions were itchy and the middle sagged almost to the floor. All she'd ever done was complain about that couch. Now she was close to tears over its absence.

"How many egg rolls do you want?" asked Gale, holding his phone away from his mouth.

Madge held up two fingers, and then darted into her room. She stood with her back to the door, taking deep breaths, trying to pull herself back together. _It's just a stupid couch,_ she told herself, angrily wiping away the few tears that managed to escape down her cheeks. _You're being ridiculous._ After a few minutes, the pressure behind her eyes eased up. She changed from her rain damp clothes into soffe shorts and a baggy t-shirt.

When she exited her sanctuary, she found Gale sitting in a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, where the couch had been. "The food should be here soon," he said. Madge nodded. She strode past the armchair and dropped down to the floor beside him. The remote was between them. Neither picked it up. They both stared at the black t.v. screen. Madge was afraid to look at anything else. She didn't want to see the blank wall spaces where Katniss' posters and pictures used to hang.

"You okay, Undersee?" said Gale, finally breaking the silence.

Madge forced a smile and looked at him. "Just tired."

"Want me to leave?"

"No," she said, panicked. She grabbed the remote and tossed it into his lap. "Pick something to watch. I don't care what."

Gale didn't move. Even when she turned back to the television, she could feel his eyes burning into her. "You know you can tell me how you really feel," he said.

"About what?"

"Katniss."

Madge let out a lengthy sigh. She brought her knees to her chest and buried her face between them. Obviously, she wasn't masking her emotions as well as she'd thought. "I just have to get used to not having her here," she said, surfacing from her knees. She didn't want to talk about this, because the tears threatened to rise again, so she turned the conversation on him. "Why are you so against them moving in together, anyways? I thought you and Peeta were alright now."

"We are," said Gale. He leaned back onto his elbows and looked up at the ceiling. Madge waited for him to continue.

"Well?" she said after a minute. "What's the problem, then?"

"You," he said.

"Me?" said Madge, twisting her neck at a painful angle to stare him down. "What do I have to do with it?"

"Drop the act," he said. "I'm not the one who's got a problem. You are."

Madge flinched, stung by his words. "Their my friends," she said. "I'm happy for them." She'd said those same words to Peeta and Katniss over a hundred times. Now, squirming under Gale's perceptive gaze, she realized how flat the sentiment fell from her tongue. "I really am," she said, trying to convince herself more than him.

Gale studied her thoughtfully for another moment, and then sat up. "You're allowed to be upset, Undersee," he said seriously. "You and Katniss have been roommates for a long time. Just because you're sad that she's gone, doesn't mean you love her any less."

"She isn't gone," snapped Madge. "Their apartment is less than ten minutes away. It's not like we'll never see each other again, so really there's nothing to be upset about."

"So you're not mad that they stayed in New York without you?"

"Of course not," she said. "They invited me to stay, too."

"Why didn't you?" he asked.

"Just...because."

"Because why?"

"Because they didn't really want me around," said Madge. Suddenly, everything she'd been pushing down since Peeta first told her that he was going to ask Katniss to live with him, came rushing out. "Because they've got each other and I don't fit in anymore. They don't need me around. They only asked me to stay, because they feel guilty, because they feel sorry for me, because they feel obligated."

The more she spoke, giving voice to all of her silent fears and suspicions, the bigger the gaping hole in her chest became, stretching wider and wider, filling her with emptiness. She was not happy. She felt abandoned and alone. Katniss had taken the couch, and the cookware, and the poster of George Washington... _and she left me behind._ Tears pricked at her eyes again. She didn't want Gale to see her cry, but when she tried to stand, he caught hold of her arm and tugged her back down.

"None of that's true," he said.

Madge didn't believe him. She sniffled, staring hard at her knees, her vision blurred by the waterworks. She wished he'd let her go, so she could cry in private. She wished she'd never invited him inside. Why did he always have to drag things out of her that she was content to keep bottled up?

"Come here," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side. By this point, she was sobbing too hard to protest. "Sure, things are going to change," he said, once she'd quieted down a bit. "But you're like family to Katniss. She's not going to ditch you. Not now. Not ever. You know that, Undersee."

Madge did know, but her head was such a mess. It helped hearing someone else say the words aloud. "Sorry," she muttered, drawing back, embarrassed by her behavior. She wasn't normally so needy, so irrational.

"For what?"

"Making mountains out of mole hills," she said. Then she glanced at his tear-stained shirt. "And for crying all over you like a baby."

Gale shrugged off the apology. "As long as you don't spit up on me, we're cool," he said. They were quiet again for a moment. Though she was still somewhat ashamed of her break down, the empty hole in her chest didn't ache nearly as much as it had a few minutes ago. She opened her mouth, to say thank you, but then there was a knock on the front door.

"Finally," said Gale, leaping to his feet. "I hope you're hungry, because I ordered enough food to feed the whole Russian Circus."

"Starving," said Madge. Crying always made her hungry. "And, properly, it's called the Moscow State Circus."

"Whatever, know-it-all," he said, tossing her an over-the-shoulder grin, before opening the door.

* * *

A carton of lo mein, two egg rolls, and so many crab rangoons that she'd lost count later, Madge was too full to be sad. Besides, Gale's stream of constant questions didn't leave her much time to think about Katniss. He'd complained at first about watching _Toddlers and Tiaras_ , but fifteen minutes into the marathon, and he was hooked.

She'd just finished explaining that flippers, in the pageant world, are fake teeth, and not the things you wear on your feet to swim better.

"That's insane," he said, eyes glued to the t.v., his expression caught somewhere between disgust, outrage, and fascination. "Kids aren't supposed to have that many teeth, fake or not. Seriously, why would someone put their kids through this? It shouldn't be legal to give a spray tan to a toddler. That's just...gross."

Madge smiled at how worked up he was getting. "Why don't you write a paper about it?" She adopted a haughty, academic tone and continued, "The oversexualization of young girls within the pageant circuit is, to over simplify, totally gross."

"Well, it is," said Gale.

"Agreed."

All the same, they kept watching.

* * *

Gale snored. Not the way her father snored, terrifying periods of not breathing at all, punctuated by 8.0 rumbles on the Richter Scale. Gale's snoring was soft and steady. Madge knew she should wake him up. If she let him sleep on the floor all night, then he'd be sore at work, bowing over engines from 9 to 5. She reached out to shake him, and then froze, her hand hovering just above his shoulder, slowly rising and falling with every deep draw of breath.

Madge had never spent the night by herself in this apartment. Whenever Katniss went out of town, she had Jo, or Peeta, or Annie, or Finnick stay with her. Growing up, she was always alone. Sure, there were maids, housekeepers, and cooks. No family. No parents. No one who wanted to spend time with her without being paid to. Until college, until Katniss, she'd believed that loneliness was just her lot in life, that she wasn't worthy of true companionship.

 _Katniss isn't going to just ditch you._ Because Katniss wasn't like her parents. Katniss was the sister that she'd prayed for every night, before she started believing that not even God wanted to hear her talk. Still, Madge was frightened. She couldn't go back to living alone, cast aside, forgotten.

Gale rolled over onto his side, draping his arm across her stomach. Madge stopped thinking, stopped breathing, while he kept sleeping, kept snoring. Rain pattered the windows. Thunder burst. Lightning cracked across the pitch black sky. No, she definitely didn't want him to leave. He was warm. He was shelter. Of course he couldn't stay forever. Eventually, she would have to learn to live here alone. For now, she nestled closer to Gale, comforted by the way their bodies fit together, the drumming of his heart, a steady reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Gale wasn't asleep, only pretending. He knew that if she knew that he was awake, then she'd insist he go home, to be polite, or proper, or whatever it was that made her so afraid of inconveniencing anyone. He also knew, from the way she snuggled against him, that she didn't want him to leave. Truth be told, neither did he.


	5. Wallflower

**FRESHMAN YEAR (college)**

 **September**

Katniss was effortlessly gorgeous in just a worn leather jacket and simple jeans, tucked into loosely laced combat boots. It took her less than five minutes to get ready. Meanwhile, Madge had spent the past five hours preparing for the party, trying on everything she owned, in every combination possible, and she hated all of it.

"I'm not going," she said, collapsing onto the pile of clothes on the floor.

Katniss towered over her. "Yes, you are," she said. "Come on, we're in college. Experimenting is all part of the experience."

"You've been spending too much time with Jo," said Madge. _Goddamn Johanna Mason._ First semester, Katniss had been more than happy to stay home with Madge, complaining about the childish behavior of their peers. Then she met Jo in Humanities 124 and everything changed. Now she wanted to _experiment_ , like getting trashed and acting a fool was some kind of science project.

"Jo makes some valid points," said Katniss. "These are supposed to be the best years of our life, right? When we're old and miserable, do you really want to look back and realize you wasted your last chance to be a little wild?"

"If you want to go howl at the moon, that's fine," said Madge. "I'm staying here."

Katniss decided it was time to play the ace. "Finnick will be there," she said.

Madge perked up. It was subtle. Katniss almost didn't catch the shift, but there it was. She was getting good at interpreting her roommate. At first, she'd worried about living with the mayor's daughter from her hometown. What were the odds? Unexpectedly, she and Madge clicked almost immediately.

"So what?" said Madge, feigning indifference. Katniss wasn't fooled. She knew the reason behind Madge's sudden interest in attending every single swim meet, to see Finnick Odair in a speedo.

"He's friends with Johanna," said Katniss. "If you asked, I bet she'd introduce you to him."

Madge bit her lip, silently deliberating with herself. For weeks, she'd been ogling Finnick from a distance, afraid to approach him. He was always surrounded by people, always deep in conversation with someone else. Tonight could be her chance to snare his attention.

"There won't even be that many people. It'll be chill," said Katniss, offering out both hands.

Madge sighed in defeat. She took Katniss' hands and allowed herself to be hefted to her feet.

* * *

"Not many people, huh?" said Madge, stuck with Katniss between the wall and a cluster of frat boys. The house was so packed with loud, unfamiliar people that there was hardly any room to walk.

"Okay, so it's rowdier than I expected," said Katniss. One of the frat boys stumbled into her and she shoved him back at his friends. "Do you see Jo anywhere?"

"No," said Madge, without bothering to look. What was the point? They weren't likely to find Johanna in this mess. Besides, Madge didn't want to find her. Now that she was here, she realized there was no way, introduction or not, that she could finally catch Finnick Odair's attention, not when there were so many more interesting candidates around. Still, she couldn't stop herself from searching for him. No luck. For all she knew, he wasn't even here.

"There she is," said Katniss. Madge groaned. Sure enough, there was Johanna Mason, on the march.

"Out of the way," she said, pushing her way through the pack of frat boys. "I didn't think you'd actually show."

"We almost didn't," said Katniss, taking the red Solo cup that Johanna held out to her. "Madge got cold feet."

"That so, Princess?" said Johanna. She offered a second cup to Madge. "Afraid of having some goddamn fun for once?"

Goaded by Johanna's condescending tone, Madge took the cup. She sniffed it, wrinkling her nose at the stinging alcohol fumes. "What's in this?" she asked.

"Hell if I know," said Jo, shrugging. She turned her wily green eyes to Katniss. "Cato's got some bud. We were just about to light up. You coming?"

"Yeah," said Katniss, grateful. She didn't trust the mystery punch either.

"You can bring your nerd, if you want," said Jo, shooting Madge a smirk, before twirling around and forcing her way back through the frat boys. Katniss took a few steps after her, but stopped when she realized that Madge remained stationary, conflicted. She didn't want to be left alone, but neither did she want to be stuck in a smoky room, catching second-hand cancer and first-hand insults from Johanna.

"I think I'll just wait here," she said.

"Are you sure?" said Katniss.

Madge nodded.

Katniss still hesitated. She felt guilty leaving Madge behind, when she'd begged her to come in the first place.

"It's fine," said Madge. "I don't need a chaperone."

"I'll hurry," promised Katniss. Then she vanished into the crowd. Madge pressed against the wall, wishing she could sink through, and hide out in the interior. Johanna's mocking voice swirled around in her head. _Afraid of having some goddamn fun for once, Princess?_ She wasn't afraid. At least that's what she told herself. This just wasn't her idea of fun.

* * *

Gale stood at one end of the long, collapsable table. _Last shot for victory,_ he thought, weighing the beer-sticky ping pong ball in his palm. He focused on the lone, red cup at the other end of the table, and ignored Thom, who was hopping around, waving his arms in the air, trying to cause a distraction. There was no point. Gale had three siblings. He could block out almost anything.

He took a deep breath, held it, and raised the ping pong ball. Just as he went to make his shot, someone slammed into his side. The ball slipped from his fingers, soared over the table, missing the last cup by a good two feet.

"Thanks a lot," said Gale, rounding on whoever had bumped him. He was surprised to find Katniss at his side. "What're you doing here?"

Katniss rolled her eyes at the question. "Studying," she said. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

"Well," said Gale, leaning against the beer pong table. "It looks like you're at party, but I know that can't be right. Shouldn't you be home, cozied up with your new girlfriend?"

"Madge is here," said Katniss, gesturing to the other side of the room. Gale had to stand on his tip toes to see Madge, clinging petrified to the wall, over the sea of bobbing heads. He almost didn't believe his eyes. It was surprising enough that Katniss was here...but Undersee's presence was plain astonishing.

"Keep an eye on her for me, would you?" said Katniss. Gale turned his gaze back to her.

"Seriously?" he said.

"You don't even have talk to her. I'll be back in ten."

"Get someone else to babysit her," said Gale. "I'm busy."

Katniss narrowed her eyes. "You owe me," she said.

"For what?"

"For copying my bio lab, and covering for you with your parents when you tripped balls at that laser show over break, and babysitting Posy so that you could hook up with what's-her-name, and driving three hours in the snow to pick you up from that-"

"Alright, alright," said Gale, holding up his hands. "I'll do it. Just hurry up."

* * *

Ten minutes passed and Katniss didn't return. Fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes. Gale was growing bored of guarding Undersee. She hadn't moved an inch. She didn't talk to anyone. Every time someone approached her, she sent them away with an ice-blue glare. She was overdressed, of course, trying too hard. _Pathetic,_ thought Gale, sipping his beer. Usually, he'd have enjoyed observing her state of discomfort. Tonight, for some reason, maybe the booze in his bloodstream, maybe because he did owe Katniss for quite a lot, he took pity.

After forty minutes, and still no sign of Katniss, he meandered over to Madge. "You lost, Wallflower?" he said, slumping next to her. "Because the library's like fifteen miles that way."

"Leave me alone," said Madge, refusing to look at him. She'd finally found Finnick Odair. Her eyes followed him as he bounced from group to group, a gaggle of adoring fans tailing him, batting their lashes, laughing too loud at every word that dropped from his perfectly sculpted lips. Gale followed her gaze and grinned when he found where it led.

"You just gonna eye-fuck the guy all night or actually go talk to him?" he said.

"Don't know what you're talking about," muttered Madge. Her cheeks flamed, giving her away.

"Sure you do," said Gale, fishing a pack of Maverick Menthols from his pocket. He balanced a cigarette between his lips, lit the tip, took a drag, and blew a cloud of smoke in her face. "I'm talking about your massive crush on Odair."

Madge finally looked at him. Her cheeks still burned, but her eyes were colder than ice. "If you want to kill yourself with that crap," she said, waving away his smoke, "then be my guest, but go do it somewhere else."

"Can't," said Gale. "I promised Katniss to babysit you."

Madge's arm dropped to her side. Her eyes went wide. "What?" she spluttered, choking on rage and humiliation, along with another gust of Gale's cigarette smoke.

"Yup," he said, popping the _p_. "I told her not to worry. Your daddy probably has a few bodyguards planted around here somewhere."

Madge curled her fist. She was sorely tempted to throw the mystery punch in his smug, smirking face. She didn't need bodyguards or babysitters. She was tired of being treated like a toddler who might wander out into the road if left unsupervised. _I'm eighteen. I'm an adult._ _I'm...pathetic._

She pushed off of the wall and plunged into the crowd, making her way to the back door, only to find it completely jammed. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. Her head was spinning and she hadn't even had a sip of mystery punch. She looked around for the next nearest exit and her eyes locked onto an open kitchen window. No one noticed her, except for Gale, who was still watching from where she'd left him. No one would see her escape through the window. Even if they did, so what? She just wanted out.

Madge crawled up onto the kitchen counter, using one hand to brace herself, and the other to keep her skirt from riding up. Wishing she'd worn pants, she angled both feet out the window. She was about to scoot forward, when an arm snaked around her waist and yanked her back, lifting her right off of the counter. Her feet hit the floor with a thud that vibrated up her legs.

"Where d'you think you're going, Undersee?" said Gale. Madge broke free of his grasp and spun around to face him.

"Tell Katniss that I don't need a babysitter," she snapped. "I'm leaving." She tried to step past him, but he shifted, blocking her. She moved the other way. So did he. Gale regretted letting his temper get the best of him. He never should have told her about Katniss' request. He didn't want to start trouble between them. After all, whether he liked Undersee or not, Katniss did have to live with her.

"I'm going to give you some advice, Wallflower," he said, placing his hands flat on the counter to trap Madge between his arms. "If you want Odair to notice you, you've got to do something noticeable."

"Like what?" she said, expecting him to suggest something crude, such as taking off her and swinging it over her head like a lasso. Gale leaned forward just a little.

"Dance with me," he said. _That_ was the last thing Madge expected him to suggest. Completely blindsided, she let Gale take her hand and lead her out onto the living room floor.

* * *

"I don't think this'll work," said Madge, glancing to where Finnick stood with his entourage. He was chatting with a tall redhead. _I can't compete with that_ , she thought, looking the girl up and down.

Gale let go of her hand to turn her face back to him. "Don't look," he said. "Pretend he's not even there."

"Seriously, this is stupid. I don't want to-" Gale's hands settled on her hips and she promptly shut up.

"It'll work," he said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm a guy," he said, smirking down at her. "You've got to make him jealous." He bent his head, putting his lips close to her ear. "Think you can manage that, Wallflower?"

"Stop calling me that," she hissed.

"Then stop being one."

Ignoring Gale's advice, Madge stole another glance at Finnick, still talking to the tall redhead. _Afraid of having some goddamn fun for once, Princess?_ It wasn't having fun that scared her, though. What if, in the pursuit of fun, she made a fool of herself? What if Gale was playing a joke on her? Maybe this was just another of his stupid dares. What if, what if, what if, on, and on, and on.

Madge zeroed in on the tall redhead, laughing and confident. She probably never asked herself _what if_. That line of questioning was for wallflowers, and the tall redhead was a spotlight, enjoying the best years of her life, while Madge withered in the shade.

No. No, she wanted more than that. It wasn't too late. She was only eighteen. There was plenty of time left for experimenting, but first, she had to start somewhere, even if it meant starting late and possibly making a fool of herself.

"Okay," she said, looking again to Gale. "What do I need to do?" He laughed and she immediately regretted her choice. "Forget it," she said, trying to step back. He tightened his grip on her hips.

"I'm done, I swear," he said, still chuckling. "You really need step-by-step instructions, Undersee?"

The last time Madge had danced with a boy was at 9th grade homecoming and they'd obeyed the foot of space from shoulder to shoulder rule, which clearly did not apply here. Her eyes darted nervously to a nearby couple, practically fucking each other in the middle of the room. The longer she watched them, the wider her eyes got. Gale forced down another laugh.

He reached behind her head to unfasten the black clip in her hair. "Step one," he said, now that he had her attention again, "let your hair down." His hand returned to her hip and he spun her around. "Step two, follow my lead."

* * *

 _Follow my lead._ Not very specific. There was still too much she didn't know. Like what was she supposed to do with her hands? Where should she look? What kind of face was she making? God, she hoped it wasn't too weird. She wanted to pause for a minute, go watch a youtube dance tutorial on her phone, and then resume. But that was definitely a pathetic thing to do and, more than likely, she'd just give up, run away, keep being a wallflower.

"You have to bend your knees, Undersee," said Gale, startling her. Somehow, despite how close they were, she'd forgotten about him for a second. "Loosen up a little," he said, guiding her hips in small, slow circles. "Just listen to the music. Stop overthinking it."

 _That's more specific_ , she thought. _I can work with that, bend the knees, loosen up, stop thinking. But what do I do with my hands? Just stop thinking._ Gale shifted forward a little, closing the slim gap between them, and her thoughts went into double overdrive. This was insane. Never, not once, had she imagined ending up here, grinding with Gale Hawthorne. She felt…

Tipsy, though she'd had nothing to drink. It wasn't an altogether unwelcome sensation. _Listen to the music._ That was the advice to focus on. Music, she understood. Madge closed her eyes, to block out the room and its people, and surrendered to the music, letting it wash away her doubts and insecurities, like it always did.

Madge knew where to put her hands now. She placed them over Gale's, adding pressure. Really, dancing felt a lot like playing the piano. The music thrummed through her body, a faint pulse, growing stronger, becoming movement. She didn't realize she was humming. Gale heard her, just barely.

Soon, she was rolling her hips without his guidance, picking up speed, taking the lead, which was fine by him. For a wallflower, she sure did know how to move. Her blouse bunched under his hands, exposing a slip of of pale skin, slick and smooth under his fingertips. He couldn't concentrate on anything, other than the way she pressed against him, just right. The friction, the heat, the feel of her skin, and her hair tickling his neck... _fucking hell._

Gale needed a break, a moment of distance, so he took her hand and spun her outwards, and then twirled her back in. It was all very graceful until the last second, when Madge slipped on a puddle of mystery punch, or something worse. She slammed into him, which felt a lot like slamming into a cinderblock wall. The impact shocked, though, more than it hurt, knocking her senses back into her. She gripped his forearms, his hands spread across the small of her back, their chests brushing together each time either of them inhaled. In just five minutes, they'd touched more than in eighteen years combined.

"Not bad," said Gale. "For a wallflower. I'm…" _Stupified._ "Impressed," he said instead. Then, remembering why he'd asked her to dance in the first place, he tore his eyes away from her flushed face, her slightly parted lips, and looked past her. It didn't take long to find who he was searching for. "Looks like Odair's impressed, too."

"How can you tell?" said Madge, resisting the urge to turn around.

"Because he's staring you down like wolf on the hunt," said Gale, looking at her again. "Now, if you really want to seal the deal, we should make out."

Madge's jaw dropped, then snapped tight. She let go of his arms and took a step back. "No thanks," she said crisply. Gale felt a fleeting stab of disappointment. He'd known it was a long shot, an impossibility, but he had to try. He didn't like her. He didn't really like half the girls he fooled around with. That wasn't the point. If the way Undersee danced was any indicator of how she...But whatever. No big deal. He spotted Katniss pushing towards them. _Finally._

"Alright then," he said. "I'll let you take it from here." Then he slipped back into the crowd, his job done, his debt to Katniss settled.

* * *

 _Rude,_ thought Madge, watching Gale trapeze back to his friends. _Cocky, egotistical...tall._ _What?_ Blinking, she shook her head to clear away that last descriptor.

"Let's get out of here," said Katniss, sneaking up behind Madge. Her droopy, red eyes darted to the kitchen. "Quick, before Jo sees us," she added, grabbing Madge's arm and pulling her towards the door.

"What happened?" asked Madge, confused and, to her surprise, not quite ready to leave. For a few minutes, dancing, she'd actually been having fun. Gale hadn't been lying, either. Finnick _was_ staring at her now. Maybe he would ask her to dance. Or maybe they could just skip to the making out part. She still tingled from the music.

"She keeps trying to talk me into a threesome," said Katniss, continuing to clear a path to the door. Madge laughed at her roommate's mixed expression of panicked determination.

"I thought you wanted to experiment," she said. Katniss ignored her. Her grip was strong. Madge couldn't break free. She glanced to where Finnick had been just moments ago, but he was gone, and her heart sank. He was probably off somewhere with the redhead. Yet again, she'd let opportunity slip through her fingers.

They were almost to the door, when she heard someone call out her name. Madge whipped her head around and froze, bringing Katniss to an abrupt halt with her.

"Come on, I don't want to-" Katniss trailed off when she saw Finnick Odair swooping in. He stopped less than a foot away, his dazzlingly sea-green eyes fixed on Madge. He smiled and, suddenly, she felt like a Victorian lady, corseted and on the edge of fainting. Even Katniss, who'd rather arm wrestle than be romanced, went a little weak in the knees.

"Madge, right?" said Finnick, still smiling. He was so perfect, so beautiful. Madge could only nod. That was her name, wasn't it? Coming from him, it sounded different, perfect and beautiful. How did he even know her name?

As if reading her mind, or more likely the look of dreamy disbelief slapped across her face, Finnick said, "I asked Jo about you."

 _When?_ thought Madge, blood rushing to her head. _Why? Oh God, what did she say? Oh God, oh God, what if she told him something embarrassing? She just loves embarrassing me. What if-?_

"She gave me your number," said Finnick.

"Why?" blurted Madge, dreading the answer.

Finnick chuckled. "So I can call you tomorrow, to ask you out," he said. "That is, if your boyfriend doesn't mind."

Boyfriend? Who was he talking about? What the hell had Jo told him? Then it clicked. She realized exactly who he was talking about and she doubled over, laughing at the sheer absurdity of his assumption. Finnick's smile dimmed and she quickly straightened, pushing back her laughter.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said, hoping she hadn't just blown the chance she'd been waiting for.

"Good," said Finnick. He took her hand, kissed it, and let go, all in the blink of an eye. Not that Madge was capable of blinking in that moment, or breathing, or thinking, or do anything at all, besides stare at him in wonder. "Then I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," repeated Madge, nodding again.

"What boyfriend?" said Katniss, as soon as Finnick left them. This time, Madge ignored her. She gazed after Finnick. As she did, though, she caught a glimpse of Gale, and got sidetracked for a moment. He was watching her. When their eyes met, he mouthed three words. _You're welcome, Wallflower._


	6. Just Friends

**JUNIOR YEAR (college)**

 **November**

Flat tire. No spare. Dead cell phone. Stranded on the side of the highway with a blizzard raging outside. No one was crazy enough to be on the road. In over an hour, not a single car had gone by. Out of ideas, and out of patience, Madge beat her fists against the steering wheel, blaring the horn until she thought her skull might split. _Idiot,_ she thought at herself. Why hadn't she charged her phone? Why hadn't she just waited out the storm at Finnick's and Annie's? She knew how to change a tire, but a fat load of good that did, when she hadn't realized she didn't have a spare until today.

Tomorrow's headline would read _Idiot Girl Freezes to Death in Car._ Whenever her fingers started to go numb, she let the engine run for a few minutes, blasting the heat, but she was afraid to leave the car on for too long, in case the battery died. Who knew how long she'd have to wait? All night, maybe…

Madge couldn't bear it. She was so fucking cold. If no one drove by in the next hour, she decided that she'd just have to brave the blizzard and walk, which was probably the worst thing to do. She didn't care right then. Anything was better than keeping still, waiting to turn into a popsicle. At least walking, she could get her blood pumping again.

She was considering getting out and doing a few jumping jacks, when she heard a tap, tap, tap on the passenger window. Assuming that it was ice striking the glass, she didn't look over, until the door opened and a horrific blast of arctic air slammed into her.

"Fucking hell," said Gale, sliding into the passenger seat. He struggled to pull the door closed; the wind put up a good fight. Madge just gaped at him, wondering where he'd even come from. Then again, it was just like him to materialize out of nowhere, during one of her rare moments of exigency. _This_ was why she liked to plan everything to the smallest detail. _This_ was why she was usually so unusually cautious. So that she wouldn't need rescuing.

"Need a ride, Princess?" said Gale, teeth chattering. She hated when he called her _Princess._ She'd never been pampered. She took care of herself, to a fault sometimes. While her first instinct was to kick him out of her car, she swallowed her pride for once. It froze in her throat, making it hard to talk.

"Yes," she forced out.

"Come on, then," he said, opening the passenger door again and letting in the frigid, screeching wind. Madge lingered. She clung to the steering wheel with numb hands, at war with herself. If she didn't go with him, then she might slip into a hypothermic coma out here. If she did go with him, well, then they'd be alone together, a circumstance that both of them had been avoiding since Finnick and Annie's wedding, two months ago.

Gale drummed impatiently on her window. Madge heaved a sigh. She spilled out of the car into the blizzard. Snow blew into her eyes. She squinted, just barely able to make out Gale's dark, hulking form. He said something, but she couldn't make out his words over the rushing storm.

"What?" she yelled, getting a mouthful of snow and wind. Gale took her hand and started walking. Madge followed behind, using his body as a shield. She couldn't see two feet in any direction, couldn't see the road, and soon, she couldn't see her car. Everything was lost in a white whirlwind. Gale was her only tether, his hand the only thing keeping her from blowing away. The few minutes it took them to reach his truck felt like hours.

When he let go of her hand, to open the door for her, Madge panicked a little, but soon he had her arm again. He pulled her in front of him, took hold of her hips, and lifted her up, unceremoniously, into the truck's cab. As soon as the door shut, a quiet calm stole over her. His truck was a lot heavier than her Mini Cooper. It wasn't rocked by the blizzard like a ship on stormy seas.

Gale climbed in beside her. "Thanks," said Madge. Her voice felt too loud in the confined space they now shared.

"You shouldn't be driving that ridiculous clown car in this weather," said Gale, looking straight ahead, at the ice crystals forming on the windshield. Madge's brief moment of gratitude extinguished. So he was still angry with her for what happened at the wedding. Fine. Let him keep holding a grudge. She didn't care...much.

"Can we just go?" she snapped.

"Your wish is my command, Princess," Gale snapped back at her. He jammed the keys into the ignition and turned. Nothing. He turned the key again. More nothing. "Shit," he muttered, striking the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. Spring, Summer, and Fall, his old truck was reliable, but in winter, it sometimes acted up against the cold.

"Why won't it start?" said Madge.

"I don't know, Undersee," he said.

"Aren't you a mechanic?"

"Yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "A mechanic, not a magician. I can't tell what's wrong unless I get a look under the hood."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Gale jerked his hand at the windshield, and the blinding swirl of white beyond. Even if he was willing to face the cold again, he wouldn't be able to see anything.

"So what now?" said Madge.

"Guess we wait."

* * *

And so they waited in silence. Madge sunk as far down into her seat as she could. Every time Gale gave an annoyed sigh, she stole a glance at him. He kept his eyes in the direction of the road, which they couldn't see, on the lookout for headlights. After the third huff, she couldn't take anymore. They were stuck together, for God only knew how long, so they might as well clear the rigid air between them.

"I didn't make you stop," she said.

Gale snorted, still refusing to look at her. "Right, I should've left you to freeze to death."

"Maybe you should have," said Madge.

Finally, he looked at her. His expression impossible to read. "You can go wait in your own car," he said after a minute. Then his eyes slid back to the windshield.

"Fine." As Madge reached for the door handle, her shoulder brushed the window. The cold stung her skin, even through her coat. A shiver zipped down her spine. She couldn't go out there again. Most likely, she wouldn't even be able to find her car, she'd get lost in that violent snowglobe.

She let go of the door and slumped down into the seat. Another silent lapse followed. Once again, Madge was the one to shatter it. "You're being a real jerk." This time when Gale looked at her, reading his expression was no problem. Without saying a word, he somehow managed to say, perfectly clear, _Are you fucking serious._ Not even a question, but a statement, an accusation.

"I didn't do anything to you," said Madge.

The corner of Gale's lips twitched. Why did she insist on having this particular conversation? He didn't want to talk about what had happened at Finnick's and Annie's wedding. He'd thought, judging from what she'd said that night, that she didn't want to talk about it either. But he hadn't spoken to her in the two months since, and apparently, she did want to talk about it now.

"I'm just your mistake," he said coolly.

Madge sucked in a sharp breath, as if she'd been struck hard in the gut. _Good_ , thought Gale, unsympathetic, _you asked for it, Undersee._ She asked for this ugly conversation, just like she'd asked him to come up to her hotel room after the wedding. "Don't worry," he added in the same bitter tone. "I get it. What would the mayor think, if he knew his daughter had slummed it with a Seam kid? Bet the media would have a field day with that one."

"Shut-up," said Madge. "Just stop it."

Too late for that. Now that he was talking, he meant to say it all. "Why? It's the truth," he said. "You're ashamed. Fucking Odair wasn't a mistake, though. His family's got a second home upstate and everything, so I guess that makes it alri-."

Before she knew what she was doing, Madge leapt at him. "Fuck you," she said, clawing at any part of him she could reach. How dare he? How fucking dare he? Putting words into her mouth, making her out to be some kind of whore. As if money, or social standing, had anything to do with who she would or wouldn't sleep with.

After a few minutes of struggling, grunting, cursing, Gale managed to restrain her. She was half in his lap now. He had her hands pinned behind her back, their faces just a few inches apart, too close. "Fuck you," Madge said again, panting violently. She wasn't cold anymore.

"You already did," said Gale. For a moment, she just glared at him. Then she jerked her hands free and slumped back into the passenger seat, pressing herself into the door, getting as far from him as possible, before she did something else she'd regret, like strangle him.

They dropped into another silence, this one loud with angry echoes.

* * *

Madge fumed, and shivered, and regretted. The more she thought about it, the less she understood why he was so upset over the whole thing. After her anger settled, she decided that she wasn't done with his conversation yet. For once, she meant to solve the puzzle that was Gale Hawthorne.

"I still don't see what the big deal is," she said. "You're like the reigning king of one-night stands."

Gale buried his face in his hands to smother a groan. "Drop it, Undersee," he said, surfacing.

"No," said Madge. "Not until you explain."

"I already did," he said. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. Like you said, it was just a one-night stand, a mistake, so let's forget anything happened. Sound good to you?"

"Are you going to keep avoiding me?"

"Probably," said Gale, shrugging. "I thought you'd be happy about that part."

"No," said Madge. The idea of going along as they had the past two months didn't make her happy. In fact, it made her feel like she was back out in the blizzard, groping blindly for Gale's hand.

"No?" he said, his anger doused with surprise and confusion.

"No," she said for a third time. Then a pause as she sought where to go next. "Before the wedding, I thought…" Another pause. She looked to her lap, chewing on her bottom lip, chalk white from the cold. "I thought we were starting to become...friends."

This year, something had changed between them. He made her laugh until her whole body ached. He'd taught her how to ride a bike and had only lightheartedly teased her for not learning until the age of nineteen. He met her at Waffle House in the middle of the night whenever she was up late studying and he was up late getting into this or that mischief. They still fought, but even that had changed. Their fights were stimulating, whether grave or trivial, instead of bloody, like their old fights, like this one had been. A few drops of blood dried on his neck, where she'd scratched him.

"When I said what happened, at the wedding, was a mistake, I didn't mean it personally," said Madge. "It was a mistake because of this." She gestured between them. "It messed up everything and I...miss you."

Gale loosened his grip on the steering wheel, the tension draining from his body. He processed what she'd said, picking it apart, searching for the trap, the lie, and finding nothing of the sort. Honestly, he'd missed her, too. "I'm sorry," he said, running his hand through his hair, damp with melted snow. "For what I said about you and Finnick, and for being such an ass lately."

"And?" said Madge, not ready to forgive him just yet, even if she had missed him.

"Uh," said Gale. The problem wasn't that he couldn't think of something else he probably needed to apologize for, but rather that there were too many things, and he didn't know which she wanted to hear.

"For making assumptions based on who my father is," she said. "You promised you were done with that."

"I am," he said. "For real this time. I'll pinky swear on it."

"What are you, eight?"

Gale held out his hand to her. "Pinky promises are serious business," he said, faking a hard-line expression, so much softer than his real one. "If you break it, all your toes will fall off."

"Who told you that?"

"Posy." He wiggled his pinky, still hanging between them. "What you say, Undersee? Friends?"

Madge left him hanging just a little longer, though she'd made up her mind the moment he let go of her hand in the storm. She refused to let him go again.

"Friends," she said, linking her pinky with his.

* * *

 **AN:** Okay, so contrary to the description, these one-shots aren't loosely connected. They're super connected, haha, just not in chronological order. It's more fun to write that way, so I hope it's fun to read. Eventually I'll get around to the actual events of Finnick's and Annie's wedding ;)

 **P.S.** Just to give you a heads up, I'm almost done with the second chapter of Incubate. In the meantime, hope you enjoyed this.


	7. No Crying Over Spilled Whiskey

**Author's Advice:** Have some tissues handy, because this one is a killer...

* * *

 **FRESHMAN YEAR (college)**

 **Late April**

To Madge, the best part of college was being able to make her own schedule, without her father's campaign manager around to plan every second of every day. She loved not having any morning classes this semester. Even though she still woke up at the crack of dawn, it was nice not having to rush, to have time to drink a cup of coffee, or two, and watch the news on the common room's tiny television, an old one with a built-in, and broken, VHS player.

This morning, she didn't pay much attention to the news. Her thoughts circled around tonight and the surprise date that Finnick had planned. After three months together, she trusted he wouldn't take her somewhere too crazy. Despite his popularity, he was surprisingly laid back. Still, she preferred to know what she was getting into before she got into it.

"Have you seen my Bio notes anywhere?" said Katniss, appearing suddenly. She dropped to the floor to look under the couch, shining her phone light into the dark crevice.

"Bathroom shelf," said Madge. "Between the mirror and toothbrush holder."

"Oh yeah," said Katniss, springing to her feet. She zipped off to the bathroom, which connected their suite to Glimmer's and Clove's. Katniss pulled the handle. Locked. She rapped her knuckles against the door. Nothing. She knocked again, louder. Still nothing. She drew back her foot and gave the door a solid kick.

"Wait your turn," Glimmer yelled from the other side.

"I just need to grab something real quick," said Katniss. The pipes groaned. Water rushed overhead. Glimmer had turned on the shower. "Asshole," grumbled Katniss, pounding on the door.

"She'll be in there for at least an hour," said Madge. It was too early to listen to the two of them fight. "You're not getting your notes, but you are giving me a headache."

Katniss kicked the door one more time, before accepting defeat. She stomped back into the bedroom, to finish packing her bag, and Madge returned to guessing what Finnick had planned for tonight. _A concert, maybe? A movie? No, he's too creative for that._ BREAKING NEWS UPDATE, in red all caps, flashed across the miniature t.v. screen, catching a sliver of Madge's attention. It wasn't until the newswoman dropped the name of her hometown, though, that she really started listening.

"...a total of five bodies have been recovered by the rescue team. As of yet, no survivors have been found. Twelve workers remain unaccounted for."

Even before the scene cut to helicopter footage of the mines, Madge knew what had happened. She didn't need to see the soot-blackened rescue team members, with oxygen tanks strapped to their backs, stumbling out of the gaping mouth of a manmade tunnel. She listened anyway, her blood going cold.

"One crew is still trapped underground. The mayor arrived on the scene less than fifteen minutes after the tunnel collapse. He's with the families now and unavailable for comment."

 _Families,_ thought Madge, the word piercing through her initial shock. "Katniss," she whispered, a lump of hard coal in her throat. She cleared it with difficulty. "Katniss," she said again, louder.

"What?" snapped Katniss, bursting out of the bedroom, bag slung across her shoulders. Madge couldn't speak. She just pointed to the television, where the live helicopter footage was playing again. Katniss looked. In an instant, her face drained of all color.

* * *

"Most phase models for grief follow a similar pattern," Professor Heavensbee lectured from the podium. Gale nodded off in the back row. He'd only signed up for Psych 101, because Bristel had promised it would be fun. A lecture on grief at 8 AM, however, was no fun at all.

"First," Heavensbee continued, clicking to the next slide in his powerpoint. "A period of disorganization, emotional numbness, and denial of the reality of the loss. This is typically followed by-"

The classroom door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Gale's head shot up from his hand. Heavensbee didn't take well to being interrupted. Whenever one person was late to class, he assigned extra homework to everyone. _Fucking great,_ thought Gale, twisting around in his desk to glare at the offender. It wasn't a classmate, though, standing in the open doorway, gripping the frame with both hands, staring right back at him with wild eyes.

"Excuse me, Miss," said Heavensbee, "but I'm in the middle of a-"

"I need to talk to Gale Hawthorne," blurted Katniss, without looking at the professor. She was shaking. Her face white as a sheet of blank paper. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Young lady, I'm sure whatever you have to say can wait until my class is finished," said Heavensbee. While he was speaking, Gale stood. He wove through the narrow alley between the fourth and fifth row desks, hurrying to Katniss. Clearly whatever she had to say _couldn't_ wait, or else she wouldn't be here.

"I didn't give you permission to leave, Mr. Hawthorne," said Heavensbee, but Gale continued to ignore him. He grabbed Katniss' arm and steered her back out of the classroom, slamming the door closed behind them.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, still gripping her arm. Close up, he could tell that she'd been crying. Katniss never cried. Not unless...unless...He squeezed her arm harder. "Katniss, what's going on? Is Prim alright? Did something happen to-"

"Prim's fine," she said, her voice disturbingly faint. "It's...It's…"

"What?" said Gale, shaking her a little, his fear and frustration growing at an impossible rate.

"It's your dad," she said, dropping her gaze to the scuffed, linoleum floor. Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. "There was a cave in. Gale, he...he didn't make it out. He's...dead."

Gale let go of her. He took a step back, feeling like he'd just been punched in the stomach by an iron fist, swinging at over a hundred miles per hour. Katniss shook even harder. Her choked sobs echoed along the empty hallway. _Your dad, a cave in, dead._ The words circled in Gale's head, chasing each other, round and round, but not quite connecting.

* * *

Even after he watched the news footage, even after he spoke to his mother on the phone, even now, at the vigil, Gale didn't believe this was actually happening. It was a closed casket ceremony. He remembered, as if from a dream, the undertaker's words, which he wasn't supposed to have overheard. _Your husband was badly injured by falling debris._ Their mother wouldn't let them see the body. At least what was left of it. Gale didn't care. He didn't want to believe and it was easier not to without physical proof.

Standing with his family by the casket, while face after face of sympathetic grief blurred past, he thought about Professor Heavensbee's lecture. _First, a period of disorganization, emotional numbness, and denial of the reality of the loss._ Gale clung to denial with all that he had, not wanting to face what followed. He shook hands, without noticing who they belonged to. He listened to his mother's weary voice, repeating, "thank you for coming, thank you for your support, thank you for your prayers" a flat chant of empty gratitude.

Finally, there was a break in the line of mourners. Gale stole the opportunity to slip away. It was too stuffy inside of the funeral home. Too many people breathing, and crying, and praying. He walked out into the parking lot, oblivious to the light drizzle, and lit a cigarette. He drew in the smoke, held it until his lungs burned, and then coughed it all out, eyes watering from the sting.

"You alright?" said Katniss, giving him a thump on the back. She'd followed him outside. He wished she hadn't.

"Yeah," he grunted, taking another drag. He lifted his face to the foggy, gray sky to let the rain cool his flushed face. They were both silent for awhile. He felt Katniss studying him, but whatever answers she hoped to find, he refused to give.

"It'll be over soon," she said. "If you need to leave, I'm sure your mom will understand."

Gale flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and rubbed it into the pavement with the heel of his shiny, black dress shoes. "I'm fine," he said. Katniss laid a hand on his arm. He shook her off and spun around.

Katniss watched him stride across the full parking lot, his long shadow stretching behind him. He didn't look back. He didn't look at anything. Though his eyes were open, they were blind. Since she'd dragged him out of class, four days ago, he'd worn the same expression of glazed emptiness. She barely recognized him. She was terrified. She didn't have a clue what to say.

* * *

Madge cancelled her Spring Break beach plans with Finnick. "I need to go home," she'd told him, "for the funeral." He took it well, refused to let her reimburse him for the non-refundable plane tickets he'd bought two weeks ago, and even offered to come home with her. An offer she turned down, of course. It was kind of him, but unnecessary. There was nothing he could do. There wasn't much she could do, either. Still, she was here, sitting on her front porch swing in the misty twilight.

"He won't talk to me," said Katniss, speaking for the first time since she arrived, over an hour ago. She straddled the porch railing, staring off across the mayor's rolling, green yard, to the wrought iron gate at the end of the drive. "He won't talk to anyone."

"He just needs time," said Madge, knowing, without being told, that Katniss was talking about Gale. She thought back to the year her mother died. Six months passed before she spoke a word to anyone, and another three months before she uttered full sentences.

"He's mad at me," said Katniss. "My father got out. His didn't."

Madge pushed off of the swing, to join Katniss on the porch rail. "If he's not talking to you, then you can't know that," she said. "Grief is a complicated thing. It's different for everyone. You can't understand what's going on in his head right now. Making guesses will only drive you crazy. All you can do is be there for him when he's ready to talk and he will be ready, eventually."

Katniss shook her head. "You don't know him," she said. Gale never talked about serious matters, though buried beneath his happy-go-lucky surface, he was always serious. Instead of becoming hard after years of struggling to scrape by, of going cold in winter, living in the dark when the power bill wasn't paid on time, being the oldest child and a part-time parent, he'd chosen to survive on laughter and illusion, the illusion of laughter. But this tragedy was beyond anything he'd ever faced. Katniss worried that once his shock wore off, the dam would break, freeing the flood of rage he'd been holding back his whole life.

* * *

Eight men died in the mining accident. Eight funerals over three days. The mayor, along with his daughter, attended them all. Sitting with her father, in the row behind the family, Madge felt an overwhelming sense of relief. This was the last of the funerals. Then the priest took to the pulpit and she remembered this was a place of grief, not deliverance.

"Our brother, Henry Hawthorne, has gone to his rest in the peace of Christ," said the priest. "With faith and hope in eternal life, let us assist him to Heaven with our prayers."

Madge bowed her head at the priest's invitation, but stopped listening to his words. She wasn't Catholic, but three of the miners were, her mother had been, and she had the service memorized by this point. Her thoughts drifted, along with her gaze. She looked sideways to Katniss, sitting at the very end of the front row, steely gray eyes fixed on the casket. No tears, never in front of all these people. Prim, however, cried without restraint.

Unable to stomach the sight for long, Madge continued down the row. Next was Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, their hands locked together. Mrs. Hawthorne sat directly in front of her, with her two younger sons on either side. Madge couldn't see their faces. She didn't want to. Her eyes settled on Gale last. Like Katniss, he wasn't crying. His expression was blank, empty, a bottomless void. He held his sister in his lap. _Posy_ , remembered Madge. The girl was fast asleep, her dark, curly head smooshed to Gale's chest. She was only four years old…

"Amen," said the priest, closing the long prayer. It was time for the mayor's speech. Madge hunched down in her seat as her father made the short journey to the pulpit. She dreaded this part, hated it, hated her father for it. Because of him, there were reporters, vultures waiting a respectful twenty feet away, with microphones and cameras, eager to catch a shot of the mayor giving comfort to the bereaved. The worst part, though, was that Madge knew this wasn't a publicity stunt for her father. He meant every word he'd said at the seven other funerals, just as he meant them now.

"Henry Hawthorne was a pillar in this community," said Mayor Undersee. Then he paused, his eyes falling to Hazel Hawthorne. He folded up the speech he'd spent all night perfecting. "But you don't need me to tell you that. I'm sure he helped each of you in hard times. I could tell you that he was a man without enemies, a man without prejudice, without conceit, but you know. Every single person in this city knows. You've all seen him patching roofs, chasing stray animals out of the road, dropping everything to help a friend, a neighbor, a complete stranger."

Mayor Undersee paused again. Of all the speeches he'd had to give, this was the hardest, it was the end, and he was exhausted. Of all the men who'd died in the mines, Henry was the only one he'd known personally. They'd attended high school together, rode the same bus for four years, never spoke until fifteen years after graduation, when Henry called him up on the night of his first-term election. _I voted for you,_ he'd said, _Don't let me down, Undersee._ From there, they spoke on the phone every few months. Strictly politics, occasionally moral philosophy, but they agreed you couldn't have one without the other.

"I'll miss his laughter the most," said Mayor Undersee. "No one laughed like him. No one cared as passionately, lived as compassionately, as he did. I'm a better man because of him. We are a better city because of him."

The speech finished, Madge realized that she was crying. She brushed away the tears with a flick of her wrist. So many people had died. Not just the men in the mines, but the families and friends left behind. The entire city bled, mourned, trembled in the disrupted dust of the collapse.

* * *

While the other funeral-goers gathered in the church, to swap fond memories like baseball cards and nibble on cheese cubes, Gale lingered behind in the cemetery. He didn't want to listen to another person talking about _his_ father, telling him what sort of man _his_ father was, as if he didn't know better than any of them. He didn't want their prayers, or their sympathy, or their goddamn tears.

Gale stood at the edge of the open grave, staring down into the earth, at the polished casket. His father wasn't in there. His father couldn't be in there. It seemed cruel, to bury him, to leave him in perpetual darkness, every miner's worst fear. Gale gripped the railing around the grave and leaned forward, tempted to let go, fall in, and keep falling through roots, and dirt, and rock, corpses and darkness.

He heard soft footsteps coming from behind, but didn't turn to look. It was probably Katniss, sent by his mother to make sure he didn't do something stupid, like tumble headfirst into an open grave. "I'm alright," he said, automatically.

"I don't believe you," said Madge Undersee. Gale wasn't surprised. He should've been, but he wasn't. He was even a little relieved that it was _her_ , not Katniss, because at least with _her_ , he didn't feel obligated to talk. Let Undersee pass on her condolences, make herself feel better with that _ever-so-nice to everyone_ bullshit, and then skip along home to her mansion in the valley. Who cared what she believed? Certainly not him, certainly not now. He waited for her worthless apology, but it never came.

"I lost my mom, you know," she said instead. "She died five years ago. Sometimes it still doesn't feel real. I wake up and I've forgotten that she's-"

"So what?" snapped Gale, speaking despite himself. Why couldn't she just say _sorry for your loss_ and disappear, like everyone else? As if he wanted to hear about her dead mother. As if he cared. He turned his head just enough to look at her. Madge withered under his desolate and cold gray eyes, so cold they burned.

"So you think you know what I'm going through?" he continued. "Is that it?"

"No," said Madge. "Of course not. I just-"

"I don't care," said Gale. "Just because your daddy gave some sappy speech, for publicity, just because you've got a dead mom, that doesn't give you the right to poke your nose where it doesn't belong."

Madge winced at the brutality of his words. He knew they were harsh, knew he'd crossed a line, and still didn't care. He turned away from her, back to the grave. For a while, she just stood there. He'd almost forgotten about her when, without speaking another word, he heard her retreat, whispered footsteps on the manicured lawn.

* * *

Posy was too young to understand. On the drive home from the funeral, she asked over and over again, "Where Papa?" No one answered. No one knew how. By the time they pulled into the driveway, she was screaming, "Where Papa? Where? Where?", kicking the back of their mother's seat on every syllable. Hazelle put the car in park. She squeezed the steering wheel, knuckles going bone-white, and stared through the windshield at their unlit house. The house she and her husband built with their own hands, sweat, and blood. She didn't understand how the house was still standing, but since it was, she let it remind her that she needed to keep standing too. She had to be four walls, a roof, and a solid foundation, for her children. Later, alone in bed, she could fall apart.

Hazelle cut the engine and tossed the keys into Gale's lap. "Take the boys inside," she said. "I need a minute with Posy."

Gale hesitated. He glanced at Posy in the rearview mirror, and then looked back to his mother, tired, but determined. _Don't tell her_ , he thought. _Lie to her. Let her believe, just for a little while, that the world hasn't ended._ But he knew his mother couldn't do that. She never lied, never to them, never to herself. Gale couldn't stop her. He was old enough, though, that he didn't have to listen.

"Come on," he said to his brothers, as he shouldered open his door. Vick followed him out of the car, but Rory didn't budge. He kept staring at Posy, thrashing and wailing, rocking her carseat. Then, without any warning, Rory screamed with her, _at_ her.

"Fucking shut up already!"

"Rory," said Hazelle, whipping around in the driver's seat to silence him with a glare. He didn't look at her, and he didn't shut up, but he lowered his voice. Posy wasn't screaming anymore.

"Dad's dead," he said. "He's never coming home. You'll never, ever see him again. He was completely flattened by ten thousand tons of dirt, and steel, and-"

Gale threw open Rory's door and yanked him out of the car by the collar of his Sunday best dress shirt. "Don't touch me!" said Rory, shoving him off. "Someone had to tell her."

"She's too young to understand," hissed Gale. "She's only four."

"So what's your excuse?"

Gale lunged on impulse. Rory was prepared. He spun around and sprinted for the woods. Gale took a step forward. He could catch up to Rory before the boy hit the treeline, and then he'd...Do what? Beat the shit out of him for being honest? Before he took a second step, his mother put her hand on his arm, stopping him with a small shake of her head.

"I've got it," she said, her hand falling away as she moved on, after Rory. The darkening woods swallowed them, one behind the other. Suddenly, it was too quiet. Not a single cricket chirp, tree frog croak, coyote cry, or whisper of wind. Gale turned his back to the woods and found Vick and Posy staring at him, waiting. For what, he didn't know. Their burning expectation was worse than any tantrum. For once, he had nothing to give them, no comfort, no laughter, no words.

Gale ducked into the car to free Posy from the straps and buckles of her booster seat. "Papa gone?" she whispered, in a tiny voice raw from screaming and thick with snot. Gale's hands froze on the last buckle. _Lie to her. Let her be happy just a little longer._ Except she wasn't happy. He looked into her eyes, in search of light, hope, and found nothing but fear, confusion.

"Yes," he said. "He's gone, Pose."

"For always?"

"Yes, forever."

* * *

Madge woke to the sound of Steppenwolf's _Born to be Wild_ , Katniss' ringtone for Gale. _We were born, born to be wild, we can climb so high, I never want to die, born to be wild, born to be…_

"Katniss, wake up," said Madge, shaking her by the shoulders. Katniss was usually a light sleeper. The sound of a toilet flushing two floors above used to wake her up. Ever since coming back after winter break, though, she slept like a rock, all through the night, after days of not sleeping at all.

After a few good shakes, Katniss shot up, eyes wide open, glowing and terrified in the dark. "What's wrong?" she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, as if getting ready to run somewhere, anywhere. Madge picked up her cell from the bedside table and held it out to her.

"Gale called," she said. Katniss' panic only spiked. She snatched the phone from Madge's hand and punched the redial button. One ring later and Thom, not Gale, answered. He immediately began talking, so loud that Madge could hear him, and so fast that neither of the girls understood a word he spewed.

"Thom," snapped Katniss. "Slow down. Tell me what's going on. Why do you have Gale's phone?"

"He got arrested," said Thom, practically yelling, completely freaking out, and probably wasted. "He got fucking arrested. We were just playing some pool at the Hobb. Everything was chill. Then some guy bumped into him, like barely even touched him, and Gale went crazy, hit the guy with his pool stick, and then they were both on the ground, and-"

"I've got it," said Katniss. She hung up without another word, grabbed a tangled pair of jeans off the floor, pulled them on under her long nightshirt, and then headed for the door.

"Do you want me to come with you?" said Madge, trailing after her. "I can drive and you'll need bail money."

"I've got it," Katniss said again. She paused just a moment at the door. "But maybe you should call Thom back, see if he needs a ride home." Then she stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door open behind her. Madge closed it. She stood there for a few minutes, with her forehead to the door, wishing there was something she could do for her friend. And for Gale, even though she hated him, even though he was cruel, and petty, and impossibly rude. No one deserved the pain of losing a parent. A pain she carried with her every day, everywhere.

* * *

Gale had a nasty black eye and a split lip. He didn't seem to care. "You're lucky he didn't press charges," said Katniss, glancing over at him, hunched in the passenger seat, and scowling at the world as it rushed past. "If your mom finds out about this, then-"

"She won't," he said, turning his bloodied lip scowl on Katniss. "Because you aren't going to tell her."

"Maybe I will," said Katniss. But they both knew it was an empty threat. Gale wasn't the only Hawthorne child acting out. Rory had been expelled for getting into a fight in the school parking lot. Vick was wetting the bed, sleep walking, nightmaring. Posy still asked for their father all of the time. Forever was an impossible concept for a four year old. Hazelle had enough to deal with.

Katniss let out a heavy sigh. It was down to her to keep Gale from getting himself killed, or thrown into prison, or tossed out of school, but she was stretched too thin. She didn't know what to do. Madge kept telling her that riding it out was the only thing she could do. Gale had always been a risk-taker. Now he was driving 100 MPH. Katniss was afraid that if she let him ride it out, he'd drive right over the edge of a cliff.

"Maybe you should go to the counselling center," she said.

"No," said Gale.

"You don't have to talk to me, if you don't want to, but I think you need to talk to someone."

"I don't need a shrink to tell me what's wrong with me," said Gale. "My dad's dead. Nothing they can do to change that."

"Just once," pressed Katniss. "Just go once."

"No," he said again, anger building in his voice.

"Please, would you at least consider it for five fucking seconds, instead of-?"

"Pull over," he snapped.

"What? No, I'm not going to-"

Gale grabbed the wheel and jerked it hard to right, sending the car careening onto the shoulder of the highway. Katniss braked hard. Her chest banged into the steering wheel. Gale leapt out before she caught her breath.

"Where are you going?" she gasped. He answered by slamming the passenger door so hard, the car shook. Katniss watched him stomp off along the side of the highway. She didn't follow, still reeling from their sudden stop. He could have killed them both and that frightened her a thousand times more than any of his self-destructive behavior.

Finally, she accepted that Madge was right. She couldn't save Gale, not when he didn't want to be saved.

* * *

Gale sat alone in the middle of the moonlit quad, with a fifth of whiskey in his lap, and a monster, snarling and scratching, inside of his head. He remembered Professor Heavensbee's lecture on the stages of grief. _Traditionally, the bargaining stage for people facing death can involve attempting to bargain with whatever God the person believes in._ But what if you didn't believe in any gods? What if you believed in nothing? His father had been a devout Catholic. His father had prayed every day. His father was with God now, so said the priest, but the priest was wrong.

 _My father's in a hole in the ground,_ thought Gale, taking another swig of whiskey. Maybe God was in the hole with him. Maybe God was dead, too, or maybe God was the oldest lie of all. Either way, Gale didn't try to bargain with him. He wished that he could. He wished he had a higher power to believe in, to trust, to smite the monster in his head, but the monster kept growing stronger, taking him over from the inside, filling him with a slow poison.

Suddenly, after weeks of wanting nothing more than to be left alone, Gale didn't want to be alone anymore. Suddenly he was afraid of what was happening to him. When he stood, he felt his whole self, body and mind, spinning out of his control. Katniss was right. He needed someone to talk to. He didn't trust the psych doctors, with their clean-cut patterns of grief, though, and he had no God, so he decided to settle for someone closer to home, someone he knew, without a doubt, existed. Stumbling step by step, he crossed the quad.

* * *

Madge watched the clock. It was past midnight and Katniss still wasn't home. Madge hadn't seen or heard from her since that morning. The minute hand ticked agonizingly slow. Katniss was probably fine. It wasn't unusual for her to stay out all night, just driving around, mourning under cover of darkness, where no one could see her. She'd come marching in just before dawn, dry-eyed, and stoic again. Everyone grieved in their own way. Madge didn't say a word about her roommate's odd behavior. She just stayed up, waiting, and then pretended to sleep when Katniss tumbled into bed, safe and home.

The clock hands were creeping close to one, when she heard movement in the common room, footsteps, too heavy to belong to Katniss. Madge's heart accelerated. She'd left the front door unlocked, in case Katniss had forgotten her keys. Anyone could've strolled in. An axe murderer, a school shooter, a demon clown. _Or it's Finnick,_ she thought, _be reasonable._ But Finnick wasn't the type to drop by in the middle of the night without calling first.

Before Madge worked up the courage to get out of bed, the door to her room swung open. An imposing, shadowy figure stood on the threshold. Madge didn't move, didn't even breathe, hoping that whoever, or whatever, it was standing in her doorway, wouldn't notice her, hoping that she'd fallen asleep and this was a dream. Any minute now she'd wake up and be alone.

"Katniss," the man hissed, stepping further into the room. Madge let out her breath. It was just Gale. She sat up, startling him. He stumbled back into the doorframe. "Katniss?" he said again.

"No," said Madge, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "She's not here."

"Who're you?"

 _Who else?_ thought Madge. He knew she lived here. She was sorely tempted to throw something at him, yell at him to leave. "Well-who're-you?" he asked again, his words slurred and stuck together. He was drunk, which she supposed explained why he seemed to have forgotten that this was her room, too.

Madge shuffled across the room and flipped on the lights. Hissing, Gale threw his arm over his eyes. Though the light burned her eyes as well, she didn't so much as blink, her gaze fixed on him. She hadn't seen him this close up since the funeral. He looked wretched, pale and sweaty, clothes rumpled and streaked with dirt and grass stains, hollow cheeks, a walking corpse. When he lowered his arm and looked back at her through bloodshot eyes, one of them ringed in moldy green from his bar fight last week, she saw such desperation, such suffering, it stole her breath, broke her heart.

"Oh," said Gale. "You." Then he spun around and retreated from the room. Madge stayed where she was, watching him stagger across the common area, bumping into the couch, the coffee table, just about everything. She couldn't let him leave, not like this. The state he was in, he'd probably fall down the stairs and break his neck.

"Wait," she said, hurrying after him. Gale stopped with his hand outstretched to the door, even though he was still at least three feet away from it. "Maybe you should wait here for Katniss."

"Where's she?" he asked, looking at her over his shoulder. The pain in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, hard vacancy, which was inexplicably worse.

"She'll be back soon," lied Madge, knowing that Katniss wasn't likely to come home for a few more hours, and not knowing at all where she was. "Come on," she said, gently, as she approached him the way she would a wounded animal. "Why don't you sit down? I'll make some coffee."

"Yeah, a'ight," he said. But he didn't sit. Instead, he raised the half-empty bottle of whiskey, cradled between his hands, to his lips.

"I think you've had enough of that," said Madge, reaching for the bottle. Gale swatted angrily at her hand.

"Don't tell me what to do, Undersee," he spat. "It's enough when I say so." He took another swig, while Madge braced herself. She needed to get that bottle away from him. Taking a deep breath, she made another grab for it. This time her fingers curled around the glass neck, just as he lurched backwards. With both of them yanking on the bottle, it slipped from their hands, and shattered on the floor.

"Goddamnit," said Gale, glaring at the pool of whiskey spreading between them. "Goddamn you," he said. His eyes, burning now, snapped to Madge. "Can't ever just let people do what they wanna, without ruining everything. Always gotta act like you know everything, like you know what's best for everyone, but you don't know shit." He kicked the coffee table, hard. "I'm so fucking sick of you," he continued, his voice growing louder, angrier. "Walking around, acting like the fucking queen of the world, telling people when they've had enough." He kicked the coffee table again, sending her biology notebook thumping to the floor. Three weeks of notes ruined in a second as whiskey soaked into the pages.

"What about you?" said Gale, spinning around to tear down her black-and-white poster of pianist Claude Debussy. He ripped it straight down the middle. "Had enough?" He swept his arm over the top of the bookshelf, sending more papers flying. "What about now?"

Madge didn't say anything. She just watched him destroy whatever he could get his hands on. She wasn't afraid, maybe she should be, but she wasn't. She had been where he was now, needing to ruin, to rage. He picked up a picture of Madge and her mother and tossed it against the wall. More glass rained to the floor. "Had enough yet, Undersee?"

"No," she said, unshaken. "Go on, keep yelling at me. Break my stuff. It's alright."

Gale's arms dropped to his side like two lead weights. He looked at her like she was the next thing he wanted to shatter. How could she just stand there, so calm? Why wouldn't she fight him? He wanted her to, wanted an excuse to keep raging, because if he stopped, he would break, just like her pictures and knick knacks.

"It's not alright," he said, breathing hard, head spinning, stomach churning. If she refused to fight him, then he'd have to do something else to keep from cracking wide open. In three long strides, he closed the gap between them. Madge steeled herself, almost expecting him to hit her. Instead, he pushed her up against the wall, and kissed her, violently. For a minute, she was too stunned to react. He gripped her upper arms, leaving fingerprint bruises in the soft flesh. He forced his tongue into her surprised, open mouth and she tasted fear beneath the whiskey. When he bit her bottom lip, hard enough the draw blood, she yelped. This was going to far. This she couldn't allow.

Madge put her hands against his chest and shoved as hard as she could. "Enough," she said. "That's enough." Still holding onto her arms, Gale looked at the trickle of blood running down her chin. Her expression was no longer infuriatingly calm, but nauseatingly petrified. _Enough, that's enough._ He let go of her and stumbled back, disgusted with himself, with what he'd done.

Gale opened his mouth to apologize, but instead of _I'm sorry_ , a stream of brown, liquid puke spewed from his lips. His knees buckled and he collapsed, heaving up half a fifth of whiskey. Glass from the broken bottle pierced his palms. He didn't even notice.

After he finished puking, Gale stayed on the floor, his head bowed in exhaustion, in defeat. Again, Madge's heart broke for him. She stepped around the debris strewn all over the room and knelt beside him. He flinched when she put her hand on his shoulder. For a long time, neither of them spoke, both of them caught in a moment of frozen time.

* * *

"I should take you to the hospital," said Madge, finally breaking the stillness that had fallen over them. Gale looked at her, confused, almost like a child. "Your hands," she said. He looked to his hands, noticing the cuts for the first time.

"No," he said, shaking his head. She took one of his hands and flipped it over for examination. The cuts were nasty, blood oozing from the pieces of glass burrowed in his skin, but it was nothing life threatening, so she decided not to argue.

"Okay," she said. "Let's get you cleaned up, at least." She draped his arm across her shoulders and helped him stand. He didn't protest as she led him to the bathroom, just slumped against her, dragging his feet. Madge grit her teeth. God, he was heavy, for a walking corpse. "Almost there," she grunted, coaxing him on. "A few more steps, that's all."

In the bathroom, she settled him down onto the closed toilet lid, and then set about gathering the supplies she needed: washcloth, gauze, tweezers, hydrogen peroxide. She filled the sink with warm water and dropped in the washcloth, to let it soak, before turning back to Gale. He still wore that dazed, childish expression. Madge knelt on the cold tile between his legs and took his hand again. Very carefully, she used the tweezers to pry out the glass shards. Luckily, there weren't many, and they were all large enough to see clearly.

Once she'd removed the glass, she fetched the washcloth, wrung it out, and returned to her place on the floor. She wiped the blood from his hands and wrists. Gale closed his eyes. Her touch, so light, and attentive, afraid of hurting him any further, even though he deserved to be hurt after what he'd done to her, stripped away the last of his defenses. Before he knew it, the tears finally came, falling hot and fast, uncontrollable.

Madge stopped what she was doing. She knew he wasn't crying from the wounds in his hands. The rough sobs spilling out of him rose from a much deeper, and much darker, place. Tears of love, and loss, tears of mourning. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him, holding his head to her chest. Unable to think through a surge of repressed emotions, Gale clutched the back of her nightshirt, leaving bloody handprints on the clean, white fabric.

"It's okay," she said, his hair tickling her lips. "You're okay. I've got you, so just let it out, let it go."

And he did, crying as he never had before, breaking in her arms. Enough. He'd finally had enough.

* * *

Madge didn't know how long they stayed that way, hours, minutes, a lifetime. Even when he stopped sobbing and shaking, he kept clinging to her, like a lost kid in a supermarket after being reunited with his mother, unwilling to let go, afraid of being lost again. Eventually, though, he did let go. Without speaking of what had just passed between them, Madge picked up the washcloth again and finished cleaning his hands. She wrapped them in gauze, made a note to herself to tell Katniss to take him to the health center tomorrow, for professional treatment.

"Lift your arms," she said. Gale did as he was told. He let her peel off his sweaty, puke-covered shirt over his head. Thankfully, his pants were clean enough. Holding his arm to steady him, she led him to the bedroom. She looked at Katniss' empty bed, considered putting him there, but didn't want Katniss to have to sleep on the lumpy couch when she came home from another late night of driving and crying, so she steered him over to her own.

Gale collapsed on top of the covers, so she grabbed a spare quilt from the top shelf of the closet and threw it over him. All the while, he watched her, his eyelids drooping. She knew from experience that crying, the way he'd just cried, was better than any sleeping pill. The half a fifth of whiskey helped, too. Once he was tucked in, she stood over the bed a minute longer, staring back at him, unsure of what to do next. She didn't have any words of comfort to offer. Words didn't exist to soothe this kind of heartache.

"I'll be in the other room," she finally said, "if you need anything." Uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her through those gray, half-lidded eyes, she made a beeline for the door.

But then his voice rose from the darkness, a single word stopping her mid-step. "Madge?" In all the years she'd known him, not once could she recall him calling her by her first name. Then again, in all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him cry, either.

"Yeah?" she said, turning around.

"Why?" he muttered, his eyes almost completely closed now, struggling to stay awake just a little longer. She didn't say _why what?_ She knew what he was asking. Why nurse him, why tuck him into bed, why be nice to him at all, when he'd never been anything but horrible towards her? She didn't even have to think about the answer. It was simple, really.

"We're from the same place," she said with a shrug. _We're family,_ she thought, though she kept that part to herself, knowing he probably wouldn't much like it. That was the funny thing about families. Just because you hated someone, it didn't make you any less related, either by blood or, in their case, eighteen years of overlapping existence. "And," she added, "because I've been where you are. It never gets better, but it does become...manageable." She turned to leave again, before her own tears spilled over, but Gale stopped her again.

"Your mom, what happened to her?"

Madge didn't turn around this time. "She killed herself," she said, telling him something she'd never told anyone else, not even Katniss, who knew that her mother was dead, but never asked questions. She wasn't sure why she told Gale. Maybe because she'd just seen him at his most vulnerable and felt it only fair to even the odds between them. Maybe because she was so fucking tired of carrying the truth in silence. Maybe because he probably wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow.

For what felt like an eternity, he didn't say anything. Right when she thought he'd fallen asleep, though, he spoke. "I'm sorry, Undersee. Really."

"Yeah," said Madge. "Me too."

Gale didn't hear. He really had passed out now. She left the room, leaving the door open a crack, so she could hear if he called for her. Though she was beyond exhausted, physically and mentally, she swept up all of the glass in the common room, sopped up the whiskey, and put everything back together as best she could, crying quietly the whole time. For Mr. Hawthorne, for Gale and his mother, his brothers, and especially Posy, only four years old, for the other miners who'd died in the collapse, and their families, their friends. She cried for her mother, and for herself, and for everyone in the world who'd loved and lost.

* * *

A month passed after Gale's drunken, late night drop-in, and Madge didn't see or speak to him once. According to Katniss, he was improving, little bit by little bit. He'd finally started to let her in again. He went home every weekend to help his mom with the kids, to spend time with them, to talk. He was fortunate to have such a large and loving support system. It didn't make his loss any less traumatic, but Madge envied him in a way.

When her mother died, she'd had no one to turn to, no one to hold her. The only family she had was her father, who'd coped, and still coped, by pretending his deceased wife never existed. Since the funeral, five years ago, he hadn't visited her grave once. Madge went alone, every year on her mother's birthday, today, with a bouquet of red carnations, her mother's favorite flower. This year, she brought two bouquets, one of them for Mr. Hawthorne.

Madge went to his grave first, where she found a single calla lily laid across the tombstone, still shiny and new. She placed her bouquet beside the lily, but didn't linger. After all, she hadn't known the man. She didn't have anything to say to him and she'd stopped praying years ago. Mrs. Undersee, a devout Catholic all her life, despite her husband's Protestant severity, was buried not far from Mr. Hawthorne. Her death hadn't officially been ruled a suicide. The mayor had made sure of that. Bad publicity and blah, blah, blah, so the Church had allowed her to be buried in consecrated ground.

Madge stopped a few feet from the grave, shocked to find that someone else had left a flower already. A single calla lily. She supposed it was Gale's way of saying thank you.

* * *

 **AN:** More about Madge's mother at a later, undetermined date. I lost a close friend to suicide a few years ago, so this part of Madge's story is difficult to write, but considering Mrs. Undersee's mental health issues in the book, I thought this was fitting.

 **P.S.** Just a little note from one human to another, if ever you truly reach rock bottom, please don't suffer alone. Find someone, anyone, to talk to, and please know that even if you don't believe it, someone out there loves you.


	8. The Pox

**AN:** To make up for that horrible last chapter I put you through, here's some light-hearted fluff. Enjoy.

* * *

 **SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **February**

Madge stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom and counted the red bumps covering her body from scalp to toes. _Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five_. She lost count at the sound of the front door opening, followed immediately by Gale's voice, "Honey, I'm home." Madge slipped her bathrobe over her spotted shoulders, but didn't go out to greet him, though she desperately wanted to fling herself into his arms. She pressed her ear to the door, heard his bag hit the floor, and then heavy footsteps as he crossed the living room.

"Where are you?" he called out.

"Bathroom," she said. The footsteps changed direction, stopping just outside of the bathroom. He jiggled the locked handle. "You can't come in," she said. "I've got the pox."

"Smallpox?" said Gale.

Madge rolled her eyes, though he couldn't see her. "The chicken pox, dumb ass," she said. Gale's laughter rumbled through the door between them. "It's not funny," she snapped, taking a step back. "Go stay with Thom. I don't want to get you sick."

Gale dropped his bag to the floor. He wasn't going anywhere. He was finally home, after a long week with his family, and now, all he wanted, was a kiss from his girlfriend, pox or no pox. "I'm immune," he said. "Rory infected me years ago."

Still, Madge didn't unlock the door. Truthfully, her main concern wasn't about getting him sick. This was not the reunion she had planned. She'd wanted to greet him at the front door, tear off his clothes, and fuck him senseless on the kitchen floor. From the moment he left, it's all she'd thought about. Until she woke up this morning, rashy and itching.

"You going to let me in or what?" said Gale.

"No," said Madge, taking another step back from the door. "I don't want you to see me like this."

Gale sighed, tempted to just pick the lock, and let himself in, but that would only piss her off. An invasion of privacy, she'd call it. "Please let me in," he said, exerting his last shred of patience. A week was too long to spend apart. Since they'd officially begun dating, even before that, when they were simply roommates, this was the longest they'd gone without seeing each other. She could have the Plague and he still wouldn't care.

"No," said Madge firmly. "You can come back in a few days, when I'm not a giant, polka-dot monster anymore."

Gale laughed again. He knew it was counterproductive to his current mission, but he couldn't help himself. God, he'd missed her. "I'm sure you're the sexiest polka dot monster in town," he said, pressing both palms to the door. His voice dropped, turning serious. "You can hide in there for as long as you want, but I'm not going anywhere."

Madge scowled at herself in the mirror. She could argue with him until she turned blue, but she couldn't win. Her stubbornness was no match for his. "Fine," she said after a minute. "But don't you dare laugh at me."

As soon as she opened the door, he was on her, lips crashing against lips, hands tangling in hair, coming home, finally. Madge rubbed against him, like a cat, purring. With a chuckle, Gale broke the kiss. "I'm not a scratching post, you know," he said.

"Sorry," she said, slipping out of his embrace. "I can't help it. Everything just itches so bad. I was going to get all dressed up, surprise you with a home cooked meal, with wine and candles, the whole thing, but..." She gestured at her spotted face. The dress she'd picked out to wear for tonight hung on the back of the bathroom door. Gale plucked a lacy pair of sin red panties off of the hook. They were new.

"Part of the surprise?" he asked.

Madge nodded. "It'll have to wait now," she said, clawing at her itchy stomach. Gale returned the panties to the hook. He could wait. He didn't care about the wine, or the candles, or the new underwear. Well, he did care about the underwear, but it wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he. Not for a long time, not without her.

"You'll make it worse," he said, gently pulling her hands away from her body and clasping them between both of his.

"I hate this," hissed Madge, glaring at a red dot on her wrist. "These stupid things are driving me crazy. I just want to claw them all off."

Gale wanted to laugh, but restrained himself this time. She was miserable. It shouldn't be funny. It _wasn't_ funny. She was a compulsive picker. Mosquitoes loved her. In the summertime, he'd seen her scratch at bites until they bled. "Well, before you skin yourself alive, I've got a better idea," he said. He let go of her hands, moved to the tub, and turned on the hot water. "I'll be right back," he said, over the thundering water. He paused on his way out of the bathroom to knock her hands away from her stomach again. "No scratching, Undersee."

As soon as he was gone, Madge carried on trying to scrape away her chicken pox spot by spot.

* * *

Gale returned five minutes later and caught his girlfriend in the act of scratching her back with a hairbrush. He snatched the brush away from her on his way to the tub, to turn off the water.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the coffee filter, tied closed with a rubber band into a pouch, in his hand.

"Oatmeal," he said, dropping the makeshift bag into the tub. "When Rory and I had the chicken pox, Ma made us take like five oatmeal baths a day. Helps with the itching."

Madge pursed her lips, skeptical of home remedies. She didn't need oatmeal. She needed high strength, anti-itch ointment and even that probably wouldn't be enough.

"Trust me," said Gale, reading her expression. "It works."

"Alright, I'll try," she said, though she still didn't see the point. Then again, Gale knew more about these things than she did. Growing up poor, unable to afford vaccines and medicine, had made him remarkably resourceful. She twisted her robe belt in her hands to keep from scratching, waiting for him to leave. After a minute, she said, "Do you mind?"

"Mind what?" he said.

"Going away."

Gale rolled his eyes. "Like I've never seen you naked before."

"Not when I'm all gross and spotty."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he said, stepping towards her. He took the belt from her hands and pulled loose the knot. Her robe fell open to reveal a pale strip of skin. "I don't care. You're fucking beautiful, spots and all," he said, trailing the side of his hand from the dip of her collarbone, between her breasts, down her stomach, and then back up to cup her cheek. He gave her a quick peck on the lips. "I'll go if you want me to, but I'd really rather not. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," said Madge, smooshing her face against his chest. She was being silly, she knew. He'd seen her after a weekend of camping, no showers, greasy-haired, snot-nosed from the flu, and covered in hives from an allergic reaction to over a dozen bee stings, and he hadn't stopped loving her yet. Still, it was sometimes hard to trust that he wouldn't abandon her the moment she was less than perfect.

"Does that mean I can stay?" said Gale.

Madge answered by turning her back to him and shrugging off her robe. She dipped a toe into the bathwater, checking the temperature, scalding hot, just the way she liked it. A sigh brushed past her lips as she sunk into the tub.

"Better?" said Gale, sitting on the edge of the tub. Madge could only nod, momentarily speechless from the first relief she'd had all day. She forgot all about the spots. "How'd you get the pox, anyways?" asked Gale.

"One of the kids at tutoring," she said. "It's going around."

"Bet you wish your parents hadn't vaccinated you now," he said, perching on the edge of the tub. He reached around her for the loofah hanging on the wall and held it under the hot water. "The chicken pox isn't so bad when your little, but it's a hell of alot worse for adults."

Madge snorted. As if he needed to tell her _that_. She did, however, wish that her parents had just let her get sick as a child. Since college, she'd stopped with all of the vaccines, only to discover that she had a pathetic immune system, having never been exposed to anything worse than the occasional cold growing up. She wished that she was sturdier, like Gale, who hardly ever got sick.

As soon as he started to rub her back with the loofah, though, she stopped thinking about vaccines, and her parents well-intentioned mistakes. She let out a low moan that seemed to reverberate through her entire body.

"You like that, huh?" said Gale. Even with her eyes closed, she could hear the smug grin in his voice. God yes, she liked that, so, so much. It was almost worth having the pox. He dragged the loofa down her spine, lower, lower, and she moaned again when he hit a particularly itchy cluster of spots. Gale shifted on the edge of the tub, his pants uncomfortably tight in the crotch area. He felt a little guilty, getting turned on when she obviously felt like shit, but she was naked, and wet, and moaning, and he was only human. After awhile, he couldn't take it anymore.

When he stopped massaging her back, Madge's eyes flew open. "Keep going," she said, lips down-turned in disappointment.

"Sorry, Undersee, you're just too damn sexy," he said, gesturing the bulge in his pants. "And it's been awhile."

"Only a week," she grumbled. "Slut."

Gale's grin stretched even wider. "I love when you talk dirty," he said, swooping in to kiss her plump, pouty lips, before standing up. "Keep soaking. I'm going to make you some soup."

"I hate soup," she said, crossing her arms over her naked chest.

"I know," said Gale. "But if you want to get better soon, you need the liquids. Eat the soup tonight and I'll get some popsicles tomorrow. That's what Ma always gave us when we were sick."

"Fine," she said. He'd been right about the oatmeal bath, after all. Madge sunk further into the tub, all the way up to her chin. She watched him stride to the door, enjoying the view. He really did know how to wear a pair of jeans. If she didn't feel like dying, then she'd jump him right now, and do all of the things she'd fantasized about while he was away.

"Gale?" she said. He looked back at her over his shoulder. "Don't go away again, okay?" In two strides, he was back at her side, kissing her again. When he pulled away, they were both gasping for air.

"Okay," he said, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "I won't."


	9. Fight or Flight

**AN:** Are those wedding bells I hear...?

* * *

 **JUNIOR YEAR (college)**

 **August**

Twenty minutes into a twelve hour flight and already Johanna was going stir-crazy. The girl didn't know how to sit still. Everytime she shifted in her seat, her bony elbow knocked into some part of Madge. Of course she never apologized. She probably didn't even notice. "Got any gum?" she asked. "My ears are killing me."

"Try yawning," said Madge, without looking up from the book in her lap. Tolstoy's _War and Peace._ She'd been meaning to read it since freshman year, but never seemed to have enough time. Her plan was to read the whole way to Hawaii and the whole way home, in the hopes that having a concrete goal to focus on would help keep her nerves in check. It wasn't the flying that had her intestines in tangles, but rather the destination.

"I hate Finnick," said Jo, tugging hard on both of her earlobes, as if that would help with the altitude pressure. "He just has to get married in Hawaii. Can't go to the local courthouse and get it over with, quick and painless. Instead he's got to drag us all the way across the country to some overrated island."

Actually, Annie was the one who'd insisted on a Hawaiian wedding. Jo knew that, but she never uttered a bad word against her freshman roommate. In fact, Annie was probably the only person in the world, living or dead, who she hadn't insulted at least half a dozen times. Madge didn't understand their friendship. Never had two people been less alike. Annie was impossibly sweet, shy, soft-spoken, whereas Jo was a volcano in perpetual eruption.

"I mean, seriously," Jo went on. "A twelve hour flight there, a twelve hour flight back, that's a whole day wasted. What the hell are we supposed to do up here? Bird watch? You can't even see anything through all these damn clouds. Well?" She looked at Madge, waiting for a response.

"Watch a movie," said Madge.

"They're all crap."

"Read a book."

"Yeah right," said Jo, rolling her eyes.

"A magazine, then."

"Don't have one."

"Take a nap."

"Not tired."

Madge finally looked up from _War and Peace._ "Then just shut up and suffer in silence," she snapped.

"Woah," said Jo, raising her hands as if in self-defense. "What crawled up your bung hole and died, Miss Manners?"

"Nothing," lied Madge, turning her eyes back to Tolstoy. Johanna Mason was the last person she'd ever confide her problems to.

For a few seconds, there was blissful silence, and then, "Want to play a round of poker?" said Jo. "I've got cards. Loser has to make out with that fat, greasy fuck in row B."

"Pass," said Madge.

"Okay, fine, just the poker."

Madge sighed. She dog-eared the page she was on and shut the heavy book with a thud. It was pointless, trying to do anything with Jo around. This was going to be a very, very long flight, and an even longer weekend.

* * *

This was Gale's second flight. He couldn't remember much about his first, either because he'd been too young, or because he'd simply blacked it out, like kids sometimes do with traumatic memories. He was a daredevil on land, a coward in the air. People weren't meant to fly. It went against all laws of nature. _Insane,_ he thought, nervously drumming his knuckles on the armrests of his seat.

"You have got to stop that," said Delly, sitting beside him. He'd been drumming, and drumming, and drumming, ever since they boarded, almost three hours ago. She was ten seconds away from breaking every single one of his fingers.

"Sorry," he muttered, trapping his hands between his legs. How were the other passengers so calm? Even the toddler sitting across the aisle from them was scribbling away in his coloring book, like he was at has kitchen table, instead of soaring through clouds, defying gravity. Gale couldn't stop thinking about all of the empty space below, how it would feel to fall that far.

He didn't realize he'd started beating the armrests again, until Delly shot up from her seat. "That's it," she said. "I can't put up with you anymore."

* * *

"Knock knock," said Johanna, knocking on her fold-out meal tray.

 _Please not another one,_ thought Madge. For the past half hour, Jo had dropped one dirty joke after another. She seemed to have an endless supply of them. "Who's there?" said Madge, begrudgingly going along with it, because really, she didn't have much of a choice.

"Asshole," said Jo, completely straight-faced.

"Asshole who?"

"Open the door and find out, asshole."

Madge didn't so much as crack a smile. She wished there was a real door between them that she could shut and deadbolt. "Knock knock," said Jo, immediately launching into the next joke. Before Madge could get out the _who's there_ , though, Delly appeared in the aisle, looking as irritated as Madge felt.

"One of you has to switch seats with me," she said. "Hawthorne's driving me nuts."

Madge was up before Delly finished speaking. "No problem," she said, grabbing her carry-on bag from the overhead rack. She'd rather spend the next eight hours trapped next to Gale, then listen to another of Jo's stupid jokes. That's how desperate she was. As she made her way towards the back of the plane, she came up with a joke of her own. _Knock knock. Who's there? Not me._

* * *

Gale squeezed his eyes closed and tried to pretend he was in the woods, just climbing a tree. Heights didn't scare him, at least not to a certain point. He loved roller coasters, and ferris wheels. He understood how they worked, but how 75 tons of steel managed to stay aloft was way beyond his ability to grasp.

Someone dropped into the empty seat next to him, their arm brushing against his. He assumed it was Delly. He was mistaken. "You're like a million times more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash," said Madge, matter-of-fact. "No need to be afraid."

"I'm not," he forced out through tightly pressed lips.

"Whatever you say," said Madge. She didn't believe him. He held the armrests in a white knuckled, death grip, anxiously bouncing his legs, so hard that his seat, as well as her own, shook. She took out _War and Peace_ and picked up where she'd left off, halfway through chapter one. She got through three more pages, before giving up again. It was just as impossible to concentrate with Gale bouncing around beside her, breathing hard through his nose, as it'd been sitting beside Jo. However, unlike with Jo, she pitied him.

"You've just got to stop thinking about it," she said. "Come on, open your eyes."

Gale shook his head. No, he didn't want to do that. If he was supposed to stop thinking about the fact that he was on a plane, then it was best to keep his eyes shut. Madge poked his cheek and he jumped out of his seat a little, opening his eyes in surprise. She couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was just too funny, to see him acting like a skittish rabbit, instead of his usual cool and easy confident self.

"What was that for?" he snapped.

"What?" said Madge, batting her eyelashes at him, the picture of innocence.

"You poked me."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

She poked him again, on the shoulder this time. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, poking the tip of his nose.

"Stop that," he said, swatting at her.

"Stop what?"

"Acting like a four year old."

Madge kept on poking, anywhere she could reach. Gale relinquished the armrests to fend her off. He caught hold of her wrist, but she just switched hands. By the time he managed to grab her other hand, she was laughing so hard that an ugly snort slipped out. Immediately she stopped, a bright flush spreading over her cheeks. For a second, they stared at each other, and then it was Gale who burst out laughing. He'd never heard her make _that_ sound before. Madge started back up. The old woman across the aisle, one row back, shot them a nasty glare over her glinty spectacles, which only made them laugh harder.

A solid ten minutes passed before they wore themselves out, stomachs and lips aching. As they caught their breath, Gale remembered where he was. Fear trickled in again, but it wasn't as all-consuming as before. Madge didn't give him long to dwell. "Knock knock," she said.

Gale rolled his eyes, but said, "Who's there?"

"Nana."

"Nana who?"

"Nana your business who's there."

"That was terrible," said Gale.

Madge rose a challenging eyebrow. "Let's see what you've got then, Hawthorne."

* * *

Six hours into the flight, dinner was served. Madge watched him shovel in mouthful after mouthful of soggy meatloaf and peas, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Aren't you going to eat?" said Gale, pointing his plastic fork at her untouched tray.

"I think I'll pass."

"It's not that bad," he said.

"Compared to what they serve in first class, this is slop." As soon as the words left her tongue, she wished she could swallow them back down. Gale's hand froze, forkful of meatloaf raised halfway to his mouth. Great, just great. Everything had been going so well and now she'd ruined it by reminding him about her rich family.

Madge prepared herself for the backlash, some snide comment or other, but Gale surprised her. "Why didn't you get a first class ticket?" he asked, without the smallest hint of animosity or judgment, only genuine curiosity. In first class, she would've had a gourmet meal, fancy wine, room to stretch her legs, peace and quiet to read her book. But…

"I didn't want to be the only one," she admitted. Contrary to the many accusations he'd made over the years, that she thought herself better than everyone because of her parents' money, Madge was often embarrassed by her privilege. She didn't like to flaunt it, especially not in front of her friends. To her relief, Gale didn't say anything more about the matter.

"Well," he said, reaching for her tray. "Waste not, want not."

* * *

Gale had already seen most of the in-flight movies. None of them were any good, in his opinion, but he found himself entertained, making fun of the rom-com Madge had chosen. For the first thirty minutes, they didn't even use their headphones, choosing to dub the movie for themselves. Madge's impersonation of the leading lady had him laughing so hard again, his eyes streamed. Eventually, though, they ran out of absurd lines to give the characters, and not long after, Madge fell asleep.

Without her to distract him, his thoughts drifted back to the terrifying impossibility of human flight. He felt sick again, wished he hadn't eaten so much. He debated about waking her up, but then her head drooped to his shoulder. She had such soft hair, like lamb's wool. He liked the way it felt on his neck, so he let her keep sleeping. Maybe flying wasn't so bad, after all.

* * *

Finnick and Annie were, of course, getting married right on the beach. Both of them loved the ocean with a passion, second only to their love for each other. The water here was breathtakingly blue, the weather like slipping into a silk robe, and now that the sun had set, the light from the full moon gilded the sand in shimmering silver. Everything was beautiful, perfect, but Madge was too jet-lagged to appreciate any of it. She found it hard to smile along with everyone else, to pretend that she was happy to be here, when her heart felt leaden.

She wasn't jealous, not exactly. She'd loved Finnick once, even dreamt of marrying him, and yes, she'd been devastated over their break-up, but that had been a long time ago. Well, only a year and a half. Still, she'd moved on. Finnick was one of her closest friends, Annie was the kindest person she'd ever met, and there was no denying that the pair were meant to be together. She was honestly thrilled for them.

Yet there was her leaden heart. Madge didn't know why it was so heavy. She also didn't want to dwell on it. Now wasn't the time. This was Finnick and Annie's moment, so she forced a smile. At least the rehearsal was over. It had dragged on, and on, mostly thanks to Jo, who'd complained about every little thing. Now she was nowhere to be seen. Finnick's handsome cousin was missing as well. It didn't take a genius to put their absences together.

The rehearsal dinner was served on the beach. Though she hadn't eaten anything on the plane, Madge picked at her food. She was ready to hole up in her hotel room, take a shower, and slip into some clean, sand-free sheets. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. She needed all the rest she could snag. _Just a little longer,_ she told herself. A little longer and she could excuse herself without being rude.

Most everyone had finished eating. Annie, Finnick, and a few other people that Madge didn't know, were splashing around in the water. Katniss and Peeta were cozied up together a little ways down the beach. Thom and Delly were dancing with no music. Gale was busy chatting up one of the bridesmaids, a friend of Annie's from high school. Madge stuck close to the bonfire, sitting alone in the sand. Everyone else was paired off. Everyone else had someone. She wasn't the type who needed a romantic relationship in order to value herself. A single life was, most of the time, just fine, but the wedding of a serious ex was not one of those times.

Mr. Odair plopped down beside her, spilling half of his margarita into her lap as he did. "Oops. Sorry, darling," he said. One quick look at him was enough to see that he was absolutely hammered, his chubby cheeks swollen like two red balloons. Madge smiled at him. She'd always liked the man, so much warmer than her own father.

"No harm done, Sergeant," she said. He returned her smile at the use of his marine title.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I punched a great white in the nose?" he said, leaning back onto his elbows.

"About a hundred times," said Madge, chuckling. "And it was only a baby one. Finnick told me."

"Still had teeth sharp enough to take my head off." He sighed, still smiling sloppily, and closed his eyes. Twenty years, and forty pounds ago, he'd been as god-like handsome as his son. She'd seen pictures, but she preferred him with the chubby cheeks. It was hard to imagine that this teddy bear of a man had ever punched a great white, even if it was only a baby. It was hard to imagine, too, that she'd once been terrified of meeting him.

Mr. Odair opened his eyes again and focused them on her in the orange glow of the bonfire. "You know," he said, suddenly serious. "I always thought he'd end up marrying you." And just like that, Madge's leaden heart dropped. Her smile slipped, not long enough for Mr. Odair to notice.

"Annie's a good girl. Doesn't laugh at my jokes like you, though."

"She's just shy," said Madge. She felt the words pass from her lips, but couldn't hear them over the rush of blood to her head. "Excuse me," she said, jumping to her feet. "I've got to…" _Get the hell out of here._ "...use the ladies room."

"Well, it's right over there," said Mr. Odair, gesturing towards the ocean. Madge forced another laugh, before turning away from him. She walked for a few feet, until she was out of the bonfire's light, and then she broke into a run.

* * *

Gale had almost sealed the deal with Annie's friend, when he saw Madge leap to her feet, as if an ember from the fire had caught on her skirt. Even before she started to run, he sensed something was wrong. "Hold that thought," he said to the bridesmaid at his side. "I'll be right back." Then he set off after Undersee, following her footsteps in the sand. He didn't have to go very far. She'd stopped about twenty feet from the party, sitting with her legs tucked under her maxi skirt.

Gale collapsed beside her. In the moonlight, he caught a glimpse of silver tear tracks on her cheeks, before she hurriedly brushed them away. For a few minutes, he didn't speak, waiting for her muted sniffles to subside. Then he asked, "Are you still in love with him?"

Madge, wide-eyed, whipped her head around. "What?"

"Odair," said Gale. "Are you still-?"

"No," she snapped, looking back to the ocean.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not."

"You were."

"Was not."

"Alright," he said, shrugging. Another silence stretched between them. He didn't know how to fill it. After all, this was why he didn't do serious relationships. He was hopeless when it came to crying girls.

Madge heaved a sigh. "I'm really not in love with him," she said. "It's just...awkward."

"Really?" said Gale. "Because I thought it was totally normal to be a bridesmaid in your ex-boyfriend's wedding."

Madge elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't make jokes. I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his sore side. "You could have told Annie no, though."

"I didn't want to," she said. "I'm happy for them. They're better together than Finn and I ever were. I just wish…" She trailed off, embarrassed.

"Go on, Undersee." He bumped his shoulder lightly against her's. "I promise not to laugh."

"I wish I had someone here with me," she said in a rush. "It's kind of pathetic, being single at a wedding."

"Says who?"

Madge shrugged. "I don't know," she muttered. "The movies and stuff."

Despite his promise, he couldn't help but laugh, thinking of that stupid rom-com they'd mocked on the flight. "You shouldn't believe everything you see in the movies. It's all a load of crap."

"Yeah, I guess," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

"How about this?" said Gale. "I'll be your date for the weekend, if it'll make you feel better."

Madge turned her eyes to him again, eyebrows raised in skepticism. "What about that girl you were chatting up?" she asked dryly.

"There'll be other weddings, other bridesmaids," he said. "Besides, she's not all that interesting."

Madge pursed her lips, contemplating his offer. This time last year, she wouldn't have considered it for a second, but they'd grown closer over the past few months. Not quite friends, not yet, but definitely not enemies anymore. Studying him now, she believed the offer came from a place of genuine kindness. "Alright," she said, her mouth making the decision before her brain caught up. "But don't think this means I'm going to sleep with you."

Gale wrinkled his nose. "Don't be gross, Undersee," he said, earning himself another jab to the ribs.

* * *

Gale sat on the groom's side with Katniss and Peeta. He hadn't been to many weddings, just a few family affairs in the backyard, nothing like this. Not that there was anything ostentatious about the Odair-Cresta ceremony. Apart from the location, everything was simple, classic, perfectly fitted to the couple. The rows of white chairs faced the ocean. There was no canopy, no aisle carpet, just sand, and sun, and cloudless, blue sky.

Johanna, on the arm of one of Finnick's cousins, was the first to walk the aisle. She clearly wasn't comfortable in the dress Annie had chosen for her. She looked absurd in the navy gown. Other than when she wore pants in winter, he'd never seen her in anything that came past mid-thigh, and now he knew why. She tripped three times on her way to the front. As she stalked past, scowling, Gale had to smother a laugh in the crook of his elbow.

His laughter quickly died, however, as soon as Undersee appeared. Unlike Jo, she'd had years of practice, wearing fancy dresses, at her father's many functions. She didn't walk. She glided, bare shoulders thrown back, head high, perfectly composed without being stiff. Her smile seemed to reflect the sun, not even the smallest hint of last night's melancholy anywhere to be found in her expression.

Gale had seen her dressed up before, when he'd served at one of the mayor's parties, but there was something different about her today. Maybe it was the just the setting, the sparkling blue of the ocean that matched her eyes, or the way the sunlight cast a warm glow across her freckled skin. Whatever the cause, he couldn't look away. He didn't even notice Annie, until Katniss pinched his arm and hissed, "Stand up." Everyone else was already on their feet. He tried to keep his focus on the bride, but his gaze kept drifting back to Madge.

Since high school, from a rational viewpoint, he'd always accepted that she was attractive, in a blonde, bookish way. Not his type, though. Or so he'd thought. Now, he wondered how he'd ever glanced over her, or thought her generic. From head to toe, there was nothing plain about her.

"For crying out loud," whispered Katniss, pulling him back down into his seat once Annie reached the front. It was Peeta's turn to smother a laugh. Sitting between them, Katniss glared from one boy to the other, giving them each a silent reprimand.

Gale didn't hear a word of the ceremony. He forgot that today was supposed to revolve around Finnick and Annie, because, in that moment, Madge Undersee became the sun. And just like with the sun, it hurt to look at her, for reasons he didn't understand. Still, he didn't blink. If he went blind staring at her, then he felt it'd be worth it.

* * *

Katniss made no effort to catch the bouquet. To her horror, it simply landed in her lap. "Better start saving for a ring," said Jo, throwing an arm around Peeta's shoulders. Madge watched from the bar, where she'd taken root after dinner. As soon as the dancing started up, she was able to separate herself again. A few people had asked her to join them on the dance floor, including Mr. Odair, but she'd politely refused. _It's almost over,_ she reminded herself. Really, the ceremony hadn't been nearly as agonizing as she'd expected. Hearing Finnick and Annie exchange the vows they'd written had made it clearer than ever that the two belonged to each other, in this life and the next, if you believed in that sort of thing.

"Poor Katniss," said Gale, sidling up next to her. "Bet you five bucks that she punches Jo in the face with that bouquet before the night's over."

"No way am I taking that bet," said Madge, watching Jo run circles around Katniss and Peeta, while belting out _first comes love, then comes marriage_. "You'll win."

"Wise move, Undersee," said Gale. He gestured the bartender over and ordered four shots of tequila.

"Thirsty much?" said Madge. Gale slid two of the glasses towards her. "Pass," she said, pushing them back.

"Aw, come on," he said. "The whole point of a wedding is to get plastered."

"I thought the point was celebrating the bride and groom."

"Yeah, well…" Gale tossed down one of the shots. "In my experience, people celebrate better with a little tequila in their system. You're my date, remember? Don't make me drink alone."

Madge was on the verge of pointing out that she already had a drink, but then realized that it was mostly melted ice by now. "You might as well," said Gale, holding out a glass. She took it, if only to get him to shut up. The first shot felt so nice and warm in her stomach, though, that she downed the second without any pressure. For a while, she returned to watching the others. Finnick and Annie, lighting up the whole room with their goofy smiles, were slow dancing to a fast song.

Gale followed her line of sight. "Alright," he said, hopping off of his stool. He offered both hands to Madge. "Time to show you a few my moves."

"I've seen them," she said, shifting her eyes to his. "Don't you remember the last time we danced?" Gale's brow furrowed. Obviously, he didn't. "Freshman year. The night Finnick asked me out."

 _Oops,_ he thought, remembering. The whole point of being her pretend date was to prevent her from thinking about Finnick, not remind her. "Forget about it," he said, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. "Different year, different song."

 _Different year, different song,_ Madge repeated in her head. She kind of liked the sound of that. "One dance," she said.

Gale's grin widened. " We'll see about that, Undersee."

* * *

One dance led to another, and another, and another, and then a second round of shots with Jo, and another dance, more shots, and somehow, Madge found herself moshing in a throng of bodies, laughing like an idiot. Everytime she stumbled, Gale was there, holding her up. She twirled around to look at him, arms swinging wide like pinwheels. Laughing with her, he caught them just before she slapped him across the face.

"Having fun?" he shouted over the thumping bass.

"What?" she shouted back at him.

Suddenly, the song dropped, switching to a slow one. For a second, they just stared at each other. Madge didn't know if it was the tequila, or that he was being so nice to her, or that she really was having more fun than she'd had in a long time. Whatever the cause, he looked incredibly appealing right then, in his rumpled white button-down, dark hair sticking up all over the place, lips parted, trying to catch his breath. When he slid his arms around her waist, she didn't question it, silently or aloud.

"I asked if you were having fun," he said.

"Yes. As dates go, you're not half bad." Then, taking him by surprise, she rested her rosy cheek against his chest, pulling him closer. "Thank you," she said, voice muffled. There was her soft hair, tickling his neck again.

"Pleasure's all mine," he said truthfully. They swayed, barely moving their feet. He was struck dumb by how natural it felt to have her in his arms, how well they fit together, when by all the laws of nature, they shouldn't. Swept up in the moment, he bent his neck a little, to put his lips close to her ear, and said, "Don't take this the wrong way, Undersee, but you're the most beautiful girl here."

Madge stopped moving and he worried he'd gone too far. When she lifted her face, though, impossibly, her smile was even brighter than it had been on the beach. "So are you," she said. Gale burst out laughing, disrupting the strange moment between them.

"Thanks, I guess," he said.

"You know what I meant," said Madge, blushing. She hid her face against his chest again and muttered, "Damn tequila."

Too soon, the song ended. Madge tightened her grip, her fingers pressing into the small of his back. Reluctantly, Gale was the one to break away. "I don't think my feet can handle anymore dancing," he said.

"Good," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes that he'd seen in other girls, but never expected from her. "I want to do something else, anyways." Before he could ask what, not that he needed to, she took his hand and led him towards the door. She had most definitely taken his compliment the wrong way. Or the right way. He wasn't sure.

* * *

The elevator doors slid shut. Madge pounced, a wild tiger in a navy gown. It wasn't their first kiss, or second, or even third, but it was by far their best. Though he'd suspected this was where they were headed, Gale was stunned by the force of it. He hit the cold, steel wall, the handrail cutting across the middle of his back. A chorus of curses and alarm bells went off in his head. He ignored them for as long as he could. Until she went for his belt buckle.

"Woah," he said, tearing himself away from her warm, velvety lips. "Hold on a sec."

"Thought you wanted to show me your moves," she said, flashing him a crooked, little smile.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Liar," she said. She'd noticed the way he watched her during the ceremony, recognized the way he looked at her now, still tasted his desire on her tongue. Instead of being startled, or distressed, as she normally would've been, she felt...tingly, flattered. There was something exciting about being wanted by him, of all people, to see him all flustered, over her. "You're not as subtle as you think you are," she said, reaching for his belt again.

Gale ducked out from between her and the wall. "And you're drunk," he said.

"So what?" she said, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Undersee," he said.

Madge rolled her eyes. "You're drunk, too," she pointed out. "That makes us even."

There was more to it than that, though. If it was just a matter of the copious shots they'd taken, then he probably wouldn't be protesting her advances. His reservations had more to do with not wanting to prey on her loneliness. Before he could work out a way to explain himself, without offending her, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening up to a long, empty hallway. Madge backed up to the threshold and held out both arms to keep the doors from closing. She looked him square in the eyes, determined and serious.

"Let me lay it out for you," she said. "Right now, I want to fuck you, but if you're not interested, then alright. I wouldn't want to take _advantage_ of you." She flashed that sly smile again as she quoted him. Her bluntness, and that damn smile, was such a turn on, his stomach muscles contracted. He was interested, more than interested, half hard already. Madge spun around and walked off down the hall, hips swishing side to side. Gale watched her, squeezing his bottom lip between his teeth. _This is crazy,_ he thought.

As the elevator doors began to close, to cut her off from view, he made up his mind. Crazy or not, she was just too damn tempting in that strapless, blue gown, clinging sweetly to her ass.

"Wait up, Undersee," he said, squeezing through the doors right before they snapped shut. Without turning around, Madge grinned. She wasn't surprised, and she didn't pause, or doubt. Right then, she knew what she wanted, one thing, one thing only- Gale Hawthorne's clothes on the floor.

* * *

Lips locked with Undersee's, Gale kicked the door to her room closed behind them. This time, when she went for his belt, he gladly let her pull it free from the loops of his black slacks. The buckle hit the carpeted floor with a soft thump. She immediately moved on to the buttons of his shirt, her fingers swift and impatient. While she worked on undressing him, his mouth travelled over every inch of bare skin within reach. She tasted like the salty ocean air, making him thirsty, but not for water.

"You're sure about this?" he said into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Madge responded by pushing his shirt over his shoulders and shoving him down onto the foot of the bed. She stepped back to admire him for a moment. Finnick had been her first and she couldn't help comparing them.

Finn was perfect, not a single blemish on his lean swimmer's body, a Greek statue cut from white marble. Gale, however, had quite a few scars. She traced the faint, white line just above his right hip bone, no doubt from an appendectomy, worn smooth by the years. With Finn, she'd always felt a little...inadequate. He was almost too perfect. But Gale, with his scars, and callouses, and the dark mole a few inches to the left of his belly button, was perfect in a different way.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, winding her fingers through his empty belt loops and tugging on his pants. Gale lifted his hips, so she could pull them off. Next went his boxers, baring everything. His head fell back, eyes closed, when she touched him. She wasn't shy, or hesitant, as he imagined she'd be. No, she clearly knew what she was doing, and she did it well. Extremely well. Just the right amount of pressure. He went from half cocked to painfully hard in just a few strokes of her smooth, sweat-dampened palm.

Then she stopped. He opened his eyes and choked on the frustrated groan rising up his throat at the sight of her standing over him, the navy dress puddled around her feet. She'd been the sun fully clothed; now, in just a simple pair of cotton underwear, she was the goddamn solar system. "Wow," he said, having forgotten every other word in the English language. Madge giggled at his starstruck expression. She enjoyed watching his eyes grow wider as she shimmied out of her panties.

Gale was used to taking the lead, but he didn't mind relinquishing control this time. He'd lost count of how many girls he'd hooked up with. Some stood out, others faded to the background. Madge Undersee surpassed them all. She straddled him, hovering a moment, teasing, rocking her hips at the bare minimum, so that the tip of his throbbing cock grazed her slick, soaking entrance. And then, sudden as a bolt of lightning, she slammed down, taking him in balls' deep. They moaned in unison, kissing deeply as they adjusted to this new, completely unexpected connection.

It was strange, being with her this way. He was even more nervous than he'd been his first time, at the young age of fourteen, because unlike the other girls, he knew her well, and had for a long time, even if most of that time they'd spent trying to tear each other's throats out with their bare hands. If he'd known what else she could do with her hands, he wouldn't have wasted all those years on fighting.

Madge put her hands to his chest and pushed him flat onto his back. She wasn't gentle.

Another thrilling surprise. When he finally regained a sliver of his senses, he reached out both to grab her hips, take back some control of the situation, but she caught his wrists, bent over, her blonde hair falling in a veil around their faces, and pinned his hands above his head.

"I'm leading this dance, Hawthorne," she said, lips brushing against his stubbled jaw. Sex with Finnick had always been enjoyable, balanced, the same as their relationship. With Gale, though, there was an edge of competition, a need to conquer. He just had a way of drawing out the feral parts of her, something she hated about him, about herself, when they were fighting, but loved right now. All of the tension, building and building between them over the years, was finally coming to a breaking point, and she wanted to be the one to control the direction of the overflowing tide.

She straightened up, riding harder, faster, touching herself, getting close, so close, almost there, but she wanted him to go first, wanted to see him fall apart. It didn't take long. "Aw shit," said Gale, clutching the sheets in both fists. _I win_ , thought Madge, grinning proudly, as she slammed down one last time. He met her halfway, hitting a spot that sent her squealing, shaking, flooding. So much for control. The tide crashed over her, carrying her far out into the stormy ocean, with not the flimsiest piece of driftwood to help her stay afloat.

She locked eyes with Gale, desperate, as an overpowering wave of realization dragged her under. She cared about him. She loved him, more than she ever had Finnick. Not romantically, she didn't think. It was a feeling much deeper than that, much more complicated. This wasn't a fight, or a competition. She didn't know what it was, and that scared the hell out of her.

* * *

Gale folded his hands behind his head, in no rush to move, and watched Madge slip back into her bridesmaid dress, her back turned to him. "Well, that was…" He couldn't think of a fitting word. Sublime didn't quite cut it.

"A mistake," said Madge. She didn't mean to. It slipped out.

"You've got to be kidding me," he snapped, shooting up. Only a minute ago, she'd obviously been having a great time. Madge turned slowly, but couldn't bring herself to look at him now. She kept her eyes low, on his pants, tangled on the floor at her feet.

"I think we should just forget about it," she murmured.

"Little late for that," said Gale. He snatched up his pants and pulled them on, struggling with the button, his hands shaking, thoughts racing, perhaps more irritated with her than he'd ever been before, cursing himself. He felt like an idiot. He should have stayed on the elevator, gone back to the party, found Annie's friend from high school. He'd been so worried about taking advantage of Madge's loneliness, but now he was the one who felt used, an emotion he'd never had to confront before in this sort of situation. One thing was certain, he wouldn't be able to forget tonight anytime soon, if ever.

"Please don't get angry," said Madge, trying to block his path to the door. "Let me explain. It's not-"

"Save it," he said, shoving past her. He didn't want to hear what she had to say. He'd believed her when she said that she was sure, that she wanted _this_ , and it had all been a lie. Why should he believe whatever bullshit she tried to feed him now?

Honestly, he was more hurt than angry, and he didn't want her see that.

"Gale, wait," said Madge. "I'm sorry. I-"

He slammed the door on her apology, confirming her fears. She stood where he'd left her for a long time, staring at the door, hoping he might come back, and let her tell him that she cared too much about him to be just another girl he fooled around with a few times, before cutting out. But of course he didn't come back. She doubted that he ever would.

* * *

Madge was dead on her feet. She hadn't slept at all after Gale left her. Now, waiting to board the plane home, she stole glances at him from the corner of her eye. He sat alone by the windows, looking out over the runway, his posture forbidding, unapproachable. Everytime she stood, determined to talk to him, before the damage settled, her courage failed her, and she plopped back down into her plastic seat. _It's already too late,_ she thought, hiding her face in her hands, trying her best not to cry, in frustration, and regret, under the unforgiving airport lights. The damage had set in concrete the moment he slammed the door on her and she didn't follow.

"Knock knock," said Johanna.

Madge surfaced from her hands. She didn't look at Jo when she spoke, her gaze darting to Gale again. "No," she said flatly, "I'm not doing that today."

"Too tired after last night?" said Jo, the implication in her tone clear and cutting. "Hawthorne can really wear a girl out. I remember this one time, I slept for-"

"Please stop," said Madge, massaging her temples. Her head ached from the hang-over. She'd taken a double dose of Aspirin. It didn't help. If anything, the headache seemed to be growing, leaking into every other muscle.

Before Jo could continue, which she no doubt would've, the stewardess announced the time had come for third class to board. Gale was first in line. He disappeared down the terminal. Apparently, his fear of flying weighed less heavily than his eagerness to avoid her at all costs.

Madge expected the next twelve hours to be incredibly gruelling. She definitely wouldn't get any reading done this time, not with last night eating away at her. Shuffling along behind Johanna, she wished, more than anything, that Gale Hawthorne was a book she could close and open whenever she wanted.


	10. Roommate Wanted

**SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **Late May**

As much as Madge enjoyed a little peace and quiet, just a month after Katniss moved in with Peeta, she started to loose her mind. Growing up, with her father often working and her mother's bouts of crippling depression, she'd spend most of her time in solitude, something she'd never wanted to go back to. Often, she started talking to Katniss, only to remember that she wasn't there. She talked to herself sometimes, but wasn't crazy enough yet to answer herself.

"You just need to find a roommate," Peeta had told her last week, while Katniss, who still felt guilty about leaving, stuffed her mouth with pizza so she wouldn't have to contribute to the conversation. If only it were that easy. All of her friends, even her acquaintances, already had places of their own. With few options left, Madge decided it was time for desperate measures.

"Okay, how about this?" she said, stretched out on the couch with her laptop balanced on her knees. Gale was slumped in the broken recliner, his long legs hanging over the armrest. She read out to him the Craigslist ad which had taken her nearly an hour to compose. "I'm a twenty-one year old music major in search of a roommate for a cozy, two bedroom flat just outside of the Victor's Village. Rent is $400 a month, utilities included. Looking for someone tidy, respectful of personal space, preferably a non-smoker, and-"

"You're not going to find anyone like that on Craigslist," Gale interrupted.

Madge ignored him and kept reading. "-And not a heavy drinker. Dogs and cats are fine, but please no birds."

"Birds?" said Gale.

"They chirp too much. Drives me crazy. Now would you just let me finish?"

"Hey, you asked for my opinion," he said. Madge scowled at him over her laptop. Before she could say anything, he straightened up in the recliner, leaned forward, with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin cupped in one hand. "Seriously Undersee, the only people on Craigslist are creeps and freaks."

"I need a roommate," said Madge. "Unless you can pull one out of that smartass of yours, then this is my only option."

Gale grinned. Even though they were friends now, close friends actually, he still loved when she got testy with him. He glanced at his watch. If he didn't leave now, he'd be late for work. "I'll ask around, see if I know anyone looking for a place," he said, getting to his feet. He strode to the door, then paused and looked back at her, biting her nails as she stared at her computer screen. "Word of advice, don't put a picture of yourself in your ad."

"Why not?" she said.

"Because, pretty girl like you, you'll just get a bunch of pervs trying to hit you up." He lingered a moment longer to appreciate the blush spreading over her cheeks, and then stepped out into the hall.

* * *

Gale was right. Even without a picture, the only responses Madge got to her Craigslist ad were horny dudes. She finally turned off the e-mail notification to her phone, sick of getting her hopes up every time the cell pinged, only to have her eyes assaulted by another dick pic.

"You'd think people had better things to do," she said, complaining to Katniss as they strolled through the aisles of Target. Katniss hated shopping for clothes, but since she'd moved out, Madge could talk her into just about anything.

"People are stupid," said Katniss. She checked the tag on an argyle sweater and screwed up her face in disbelief. "These prices are beyond stupid." They were in the discount section. Then again, Katniss did most of her shopping at Goodwill, and even there she sometimes complained about the prices. Living with her for the past four years had taught Madge, who'd never even looked at a price tag until college, to be more frugal. She did love to shop, for clothes, but mostly books and antique trinkets. It was her stress relief. Today, it wasn't working.

"I don't get why you want a roommate, anyways" said Katniss. "Your dad's covering rent, so you don't need one."

"It's not a money thing," said Madge, blushing. She always got uncomfortable, talking finances with Katniss. When they'd moved off campus, she'd offered to pay for everything, but Katniss refused to live off of the mayor's charity, so she worked full time, on top of school, while Madge continued on, in self-loathing, with a love-hate relationship to her family's money.

"I don't like living alone," said Madge. "I…" She trailed off, lowered her eyes to the dresses on the rack between her and Katniss. How could she explain? Explain that she was afraid, not of robbers or axe-murderers, but of going crazy, like her mother. Really, she already was. Her depression wasn't as severe, yet, but she still had sporadic episodes.

Katniss read her friend's expression, explanation enough. "You can always call me," she said. "Whenever you need to."

"It's not that easy," said Madge. She touched one of the dresses on the rack. Flower patterned. In the clutch of a depressive episode, picking up the phone was about as daunting as climbing Everest.

"Come on," said Katniss, grabbing Madge's arm and pulling her away from the discount dresses. "I know what you need."

"What?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Thanks to Katniss, Madge had found a new roommate. They weren't ideal. They shed all over the place, peed on the floor, and scratched the furniture, but at least they didn't talk much.

"Of all the animals at the pound, why the hell did you pick _that_ ugly thing?" said Gale, on his hands and knees, scrutinizing the squash-faced, orange furball hiding under the ottoman. The cat's slanted, yellow eyes glowed like a demon's.

" _That_ thing's name is Buttercup," said Madge, kneeling on the other side of the ottoman. "And he's had a rough life on the streets. I thought he deserved a good home."

"There's a reason no one wanted it," said Gale. "Damn thing's evil."

"He's just scared," said Madge. Slowly, carefully, she offered her hand to the cat. "It's okay, Buttercup. You're safe here. I'm going to take care of-" Her fingertips just barely brushed the cat's coarse fur. Buttercup's reaction was quick and merciless. Madge yelped as claws tore her flesh. She withdrew her hand. Three bloody lines ran from wrist to elbow.

Gale was by her side in a flash. "Evil," he muttered under his breath as he inspected the damage.

"Just a scratch," said Madge. A scratch that hurt like a thousand paper cuts. Gale helped her to her feet, led her into the kitchen, and pushed her down into a chair by the table.

"Better clean it," he said, already going for the First Aid kit under the sink. He'd spent so much time here the past few months that he knew where she kept just about everything. "There's no telling what kind of diseases that beast has."

"Buttercup," corrected Madge. But he was probably right about the diseases. She pressed a napkin to the scratches until the bleeding stopped. The cuts were fairly deep.

"This is going to sting," said Gale, kneeling by her knees, before he began cleaning the scratches with an alcohol wipe. Madge winced. Okay, so maybe her new roommate wasn't ideal. _Maybe I should've gone with a snake,_ she thought, _no claws._ Katniss had warned against her choice, but Madge pitied the mean, ugly cat. She'd always had money to blow on shopping sprees, vacation homes all over the world, and more food in the fridge than a family of twelve could eat in a week, yet for all of her wealth and privilege, she related to the strays of the world. She knew what it felt like to be unloved, neglected, given no choice but to fend for herself, at least emotionally.

"You should take it back," said Gale. "Or even better, find a volcano and throw it in. Bet that's the only way to kill the monster."

"His name is Buttercup," snapped Madge. She gave him that stern, no-use-arguing glare that Gale was all too familiar with. He didn't say anything more on the subject, just shook his head and finished wrapping her arm in gauze. Leave it to Madge Undersee to adopt a cat out of hell and name it after a flower.

* * *

Gale didn't leave Madge's place until well after midnight. He'd offered to stay the night, but like always, she turned him down. "I'm fine," she'd said. "Really."

Really, though, she wasn't fine. She was lonely. It didn't take a mind reader to realize that. Anyone desperate enough to take in a cat like _Buttercup_ must be desperate for company. He'd asked everyone he knew if they were looking for a room, or if they knew anyone looking, and had come up with nothing. There wasn't much more he could do. _She'll figure it out,_ he told himself, driving home. Madge Undersee always found a solution. Still, he worried about her, and he knew Katniss did too. At every intersection, he was tempted to pull a U-turn and go back, but she'd only turn him away if he did.

Just a few miles from home, his phone went off. His thoughts on Madge, he let it ring, and ring, and ring, and ring. "Shut up," he growled, shooting a glare at the phone, still ringing, in the passenger seat of his truck. Who the hell was calling him this late, anyway? The phone went silent and he turned his eyes back to the road. That's when he saw the smoke, black and ominous, blocking out the stars. _What the…?_

Gale made a sharp right onto his street and braked hard. Two patrol cars had the end of the street blocked off. He squinted against the flashing blue light of the squad cars and found the source of the black smoke. For a second, shock rippled through him, followed by gut-wrenching terror. He flung open his door and leapt down to the pavement. "Thom!" he yelled, racing towards the cop cars. People in pajamas and bathrobes swarmed the sidewalk. "Thom!" Gale shouted again, searching the crowd, his heart pounding.

"Over here!"

Gale spun around to find Thom hurrying towards him. They met each other halfway. Before Thom could say anything, Gale pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "Christ, Hawthorne, I'm fine," grunted Thom, barely able to breathe in his friend's embrace.

"What happened?" said Gale, taking a step back. He looked back to their apartment building. The flames had already been put out, leaving behind a charred and smoking husk. Glass from shattered windows littered the street.

"Faulty wiring," said Thom. "Knew there was a reason rent was so cheap. I don't think the landlord's had an electrician in there since the 80s."

"Did anyone-?"

"Everyone got out," Thom said before Gale finished the question. "They took a few people to the hospital for minor burns, smoke inhalation, but I've been asking around and it sounds like they'll all be alright."

 _Thank God,_ thought Gale, looking over his shaken neighbors. He didn't own much, so he hadn't lost much. He was just grateful that no one was dead. Judging from the ruins, this could've easily been a disaster.

"Well, looks like our lease is up," said Thom. Neither of them had renter's insurance. Too expensive. One of the reasons they'd chosen this building, despite its many flaws, was that the landlord didn't require them to. They were completely on their own, all of their earthly belongings smoked to ruin, but oddly enough, Gale wasn't worried. He knew exactly where they could go.

The universe certainly did have a funny way of solving problems.

* * *

Buttercup refused to come out from under the ottoman and, after that afternoon's disastrous attempts to coax him, Madge was content to let her new cat do as he pleased. She left a bowl of food and water nearby. So far, Buttercup didn't seem interested in either. She was curled up in the recliner, half watching an infomercial for non-stick frying pans. Maybe that's what she would get Peeta for Christmas. He was always complaining about his own set.

The other half of her thoughts circled around the roommate issue. Katniss' solution, to get a pet, was a good one, but it wasn't working. Madge blamed herself. She'd made the wrong the choice of furry friend, but she couldn't take the cat back now. No one else wanted him. Though her arm still throbbed, she wouldn't abandon Buttercup to euthanization. _I can't even find the right pet,_ she thought, stroking her bandaged arm. _How am I going to chose the right_ _roommate?_

"What do you think, Buttercup?" she asked. "Should I just give up? Accept my lonely lot in life?"

Buttercup was silent. She was right back to talking to herself. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She brushed them away before they fell. She still had friends, people she saw everyday, people who loved her. No one had abandoned her. It was difficult to remember that, though, in the silence. All of her old insecurities and fears of being forgotten stirred in the quiet, dusty corners.

Then they were shattered by someone banging on her door. Startled, Madge tumbled out of the recliner. Buttercup hissed from his hiding place. It was almost three in the morning. As she crossed the living room, she looked around, thinking that maybe Gale had forgotten something. There was nothing of his that she could see, but sure enough, when she opened the door, she found him standing in the hallway. Thom, in a pair of ratty sweats, no shoes or socks on his feet, stood beside him. Madge looked from one boy to the other. Thom smiled at her, almost sheepish, an unusual expression for him. Gale, on the other hand, was smiling.

"What are you doing here?" she said. She glanced to Thom's dirty feet. "And where are your shoes?"

Thom opened his mouth to answer, but Gale beat him to it. "That's no way to greet your new roomies, Undersee," he said, strolling past her into the apartment.

* * *

 **AN:** Honestly, not my best work, but it's been so long since I posted anything at all that I figured what the hell. This is really just an introduction to a longer thread of Gale & Madge's adventures as roommates.

 **P.S.** Sorry that I've let the Incubate series go a little stale. I haven't given up on it, but I recently moved to a new city, got a new job, blah blah, boring life stuff, so things are pretty hectic right now.


	11. Do You Believe in Ghosts?

**AN:** So I'm moving into the high school years with this one. I've got ideas for Gale & Madge from pre-k all the way to their golden years :) Also, I'm definitely in the Halloween (best holiday ever) spirit right now, so there might be more spook-tacular one-shots coming soon.

* * *

 **SENIOR YEAR (high school)**

 **April**

"This is stupid," Delly said for the hundredth time. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I can't believe you let Hawthorne talk _you_ into this."

"I'm not going because of Hawthorne," said Madge, keeping her eyes on the road. On these dim back roads, lined on both sides by thick forest, it was imperative to keep an eye out for deer.

"Oh really?" said Delly.

"Really," said Madge. It was tradition for graduating seniors to spend a night in the old miners' lodging. No one had lived there since the 1930s. Legend held that the place was haunted by those who'd died there. It was all a load of crap. Last year, Madge wrote a paper on the history of the town's mining culture. There was no record of anyone having actually died in the old lodge. Besides, she didn't believe in ghosts.

"You've always made fun of the tradition," said Delly. "At least until Hawthorne-"

"It's not about him," said Madge through clenched teeth. More crap. She could lie to Delly until she was blue in the face, but she couldn't lie to herself. Remembering Gale's taunts from that afternoon, she gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turned bone white. _Admit it, Undersee, you're too chicken shit to do it._ That's all it had taken for her to toss out her principles in order to prove him wrong. If only she hadn't gone to the mall today, if only she hadn't gone to the food court for a funnel cake, then she'd be home now, studying for her AP tests like she should be. How was she supposed to know that Gale was home for Spring Break? Since he'd left for college, she'd almost forgotten the effect he had on her. Most people, she could ignore, but never him. Then again, most people left her alone. Never him.

"Just forgot about him," said Delly. "He's a jerk. You don't have to prove anything to him."

Madge didn't respond. She turned off onto a bumpy, dirt road, hardly more than a foot trail. Delly was right. Hawthorne was a jerk and she had nothing to prove. She was valedictorian, president of the National Honor Society and the debate team, and she could play any Mozart composition backwards and blindfolded. Yet here she was, letting herself get dragged into a stupid tradition, all because Gale Hawthorne had dared her.

* * *

"She won't come," said Katniss, sitting on the hood of her car, her back to the windshield.

"Yeah, she will," said Gale. He had no doubt that, any minute now, Madge Undersee would arrive. She always rose to the bait. If she didn't, he wouldn't still be casting his line at her every chance he got.

"What's your deal with her, anyway?" said Katniss. She propped up onto her elbows to study him in the moonlight. "You're like a tween boy with some stupid crush. Thought you might've grown up a little since you left home."

"There's nothing to do in this lame-ass town," said Gale. "Messing with Undersee is about the only entertainment in a fifty mile radius."

"Whatever," huffed Katniss. She collapsed against the windshield again. For as long as she could remember, she'd put up with her cousin's mad obsession to drive the mayor's daughter crazy. She'd long since stopped trying to understand. She didn't much like Madge Undersee, either, but thought it was a waste of time to torture the girl. The only reason she'd agreed to come tonight was to spend time with her cousin before he left again. Though she wouldn't admit it, and had complained ceaselessly since he rolled up her driveway, she'd been bored this past year without him getting her into trouble every other day.

"Ten more minutes," she said, "and then I'm leaving." As soon as the words left her mouth, they heard tires crunching over twigs and dirt. Headlights rounded the corner. A wolfish grin spread across Gale's lips.

"Told you she'd come," he said. Katniss rolled her eyes. She wasn't surprised. There was something poisonous and magnetic between Gale and Undersee. They were caught in an intense game of tug-o-war, which apparently hadn't ended after nearly a year of separation.

* * *

Madge cut the engine. She didn't move to get out of the car. Now that she was here, she felt incredibly stupid.

"We can still go home," said Delly, sounding hopeful. It was too late for that, though. Gale had already seen them. He stood in the beam of her headlights, egging her on with that infuriating grin of his.

"You can wait in the car if you're scared," said Madge. She flipped off her headlights and shouldered open the door. Grudgingly, Delly followed. They stopped a couple feet from Hawthorne's pick-up. Madge wasn't surprised that he'd brought Katniss along with him. The pair of them had been practically inseparable since birth.

"I'm surprised you actually showed, Undersee," said Gale, still smirking. "Your daddy know you're breaking curfew?"

Madge's father was out of town. He'd been gone for a week and wasn't due home for another three days. "I don't have a curfew," she said.

"Right," said Gale. "Goody two shoes like you doesn't need one."

"Can we just get this over with?" said Katniss. She didn't look like she wanted to be here anymore than Delly. Before anymore could be said, she thrust a flashlight at Madge, spun around, and began marching further down the dirt road they were on. Hugging herself around the waist, Delly shuffled after her.

"You know in the movies, the blondes always die first," said Gale. "Sure you want to do this?"

Madge wasn't afraid of the ghosts she didn't believe in, or wild animals, or psycho axe-murderers. The only thing out here that might kill her was Hawthorne's insufferable grin. She clicked on the flashlight and hurried to catch up with Delly, letting Gale take the rear. In the movies, it was always the last in line to get picked off first. If only...

* * *

They walked for a mile in silence. The dirt road narrowed, soon becoming impassable by vehicle. Madge and Delly stumbled along by the thin beam of their flashlights. Gale and Katniss, who'd hunted and camped in these woods since they were children, moved with an easy confidence that Madge both envied and resented. Every time she tripped, Gale chuckled behind her.

Eventually they came to a rusted gate, only a few feet of it visible between encroaching trees. Katniss stopped. She rounded on Madge and Delly, eyed them seriously for a moment, and then said, "Are you sure you want to keep going?"

"Yes," said Madge, at the same time Delly said, "No." Madge elbowed her friend in the ribs. Glaring, Delly stepped away from her.

"This was your plan, not mine," she said, indignant.

"You agreed to come," said Madge.

"Well, I've changed my mind. I don't want to spent the rest of the night in some haunted, old hut. Besides, something out here is biting the crap out of me."

"Chiggers, maybe," said Gale.

Delly wrinkled her nose in disgust. She doubled over to scratch her ankles. "Great," she muttered. "If I've got parasites, I'm going to kill you."

"They don't get under your skin," said Katniss. "That's a myth. They just bite."

"Whatever," said Delly. "I'm done." She straightened up, wishing she'd waited in the car, wishing she hadn't let herself be dragged into this stupid game between Madge and Hawthorne. "I'm going back to the car." She moved back the way they'd come, but Gale blocked her path. Even with a flashlight, the path back was difficult to follow. She was likely to get lost, and as much as he enjoyed to see the two spoiled, rich girls suffer, he didn't want to be held responsible if one of them wandered off of a cliff in the middle of the night.

The four of them stood at an impasse. Madge refused to turn back. Delly refused to continue. Gale wanted to see how far Undersee would go. Katniss didn't give a damn about any of it. "I'll take Delly back to the cars," she said, solving their problem. She looked to Gale, her gray eyes sharp and stern. "Try not to kill each other out there, alright. I don't want to get pulled into a murder investigation."

"Don't worry," said Gale. "We'll be fine. Right, Undersee?"

Madge didn't answer. She wouldn't even look at him. She just scowled ahead at the darkness. Gale stepped aside to let Katniss and Delly pass. Once their footsteps receded, he leapt over the gate and turned back to Madge, lingering on the other side. "Well," he said after a minute, "you going to chicken out, too?"

Madge took a deep breath. Now that Delly was gone, she regretted her decision to come here more than ever. _What_ are _you trying to prove_? she asked herself. No one had a gun to her head. She was free to turn back. In a few days, Gale would be back at school, so she wouldn't even have to suffer his teasing for very long. She was just about to spin around, chase after Delly and Katniss, but then she looked at Gale, standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at her like she'd already given up, like he'd won.

She scrambled clumsily over the gate. He'd made it look so easy. Then again, his legs were much longer than hers.

"Try to keep up," he said, before continuing on. She was resilient. He had to give her that much.

* * *

The old miners' lodge was a long, low-ceilinged cabin nestled in an overgrown clearing. Madge had only seen it in pictures from when it was newly built. Now the windows were busted in and moss crept up the splintered walls. There was only one room. In one corner, there was the kitchen, nothing more than a gas stove that hadn't been lit in over fifty years. Ten metal frame beds lined the walls, five on each side. Gale settled on the edge of one that still had a mattress, thin and gray. Madge stood in the middle of the room, wishing she'd brought a camera, and studying the intricate cobwebs strung between the rafters. She loved abandoned buildings, their quiet memories, and lost stories.

After a while, Gale grew bored of watching her. Obviously, she wasn't scared and he was more than a little disappointed. Coming out here didn't feel worth it anymore now that she seemed to almost be enjoying herself.

"You know why this place is abandoned, don't you?" he said, still hoping to get some amusement out of scaring her. "One of the miners who lived here went crazy. Killed all of the others while they were sleeping. Scrambled their brains with a pick axe."

Madge turned to him with her hands on her hips. "That's an urban legend," she said. "It never happened. There's no legitimate record. The miners just moved, built houses for their families, and-"

"Yeah, yeah," said Gale, rolling his eyes. "And founded the town." That's what they'd been taught in school. He liked the legends better, even if he didn't entirely believe them. They were more interesting. Madge sat on the bed opposite him.

For a minute, they were silent again. Outside the wind picked up, whistling through the cracks in the walls. Even though it was Spring, the nights were still chilly. Madge regretted not bringing a sweater. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in her body heat, and returned to examining the cobwebs. She yelped, truly startled for the first time, when something hit her in the face. At first she thought it was a bat, but then looked down to see Gale's jacket in her lap.

"Go ahead, put it on," he said.

"No thanks," she said, tossing the jacket back across the room. "I don't need it."

Gale threw the jacket right back at her. "I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here," he said. "It's driving me crazy."

Madge scowled at his jacket on the floor, determined not to pick it up, but the longer she looked at it, the colder she felt. Finally, with an annoyed sigh, she scooped it up and stuck her arms through the sleeves. The worn fabric was scratchy against her skin, but it was better than the sting of the draft. Silence stretched between them yet again. Outside, an owl let go a low, mournful hoot. Madge felt she'd proved herself enough by coming, but the tradition was to stay until sunrise, and since Gale didn't suggest leaving, neither did she, in case he took it as forfeiture. Still, she couldn't bear to pass the whole night in quiet.

"You don't really believe in ghosts, do you?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said. Madge looked at him with a mix of disbelief and scorn. He chuckled at her expression. "I think there are things we can't explain," he continued. "I mean, millions of people claim to have had experiences with the supernatural. They can't all be crazy."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Had an _experience_ ," said Madge.

"No," said Gale, "but I've never been to France, either. That doesn't mean I don't believe it's real."

"There's definitive proof that France exists," she said. She'd been there. Three times actually. She'd stood on the beaches of Normandy, felt the sand between her toes, climbed to the top of the Eiffel tower, and eaten scones at a little cafe on the Avenue Champs des Elysees. Even if she hadn't done all of those things, a country was not the same as lost and wandering spirits. Gale just shrugged. "You can't really believe in this crap," she said. Despite his many flaws, he wasn't stupid.

"That's your problem, Undersee," said Gale, leaning forward. "You think you know everything. You're narrow minded."

Madge snorted. _That's rich_ , she thought, _coming from him,_ the boy who'd always judged her, hated her, because of what he thought he knew about her. She let the conversation drop.

* * *

"Do you really think they'll stay out there all night?" said Delly.

"Yes," said Katniss. Knowing the two of them, both stubborn, and their history of stupid, little contests, she didn't doubt that they would tough it out until sunrise, neither of them willing to bend to the other in even the slightest way. That's why she'd come prepared.

"What are you doing?" asked Delly, looking over Katniss' shoulder as she fished through the contents of Gale's glove box. Katniss didn't answer right away, not until she found what she was looking for. She turned around with a Halloween mask in hand, one that Rory had gladly loaned to her when she'd explained what she meant to do with it.

"Got your phone on you?" she asked Delly.

"Yes. Why?"

"Do you have 4G?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Good,"said Katniss. They'd need access to the internet, for sound effect. Her own cell phone was prehistoric, made before the age of wireless world wide web. She was tired of getting stuck in the middle of the feud between Gale and Madge. Though she didn't know Delly Cartwright very well, Katniss suspected she felt the same. "Want to help me scare the shit out of them?" she said, lifting the Halloween mask to her face.

Delly grinned.

* * *

This time, Gale was the one to break the silence. "So," he said, dragging out the _o_ , "you got accepted to Capitol U."

"How did you know about that?" said Madge, surprised.

"Katniss told me."

Madge was still confused. How did Katniss know? Then she remembered that the school had posted a list of where the graduating seniors planned to go to college. She must have read it there. After all, Katniss had been accepted to the same university and probably wanted to see who else had.

"Yeah," said Madge. She'd been accepted at a dozen schools and spent weeks agonizing over which to attend. Capitol University was , and always had been, her dream school. It was her mother's alma mater. But the fact that it was where Gale was had made her seriously reconsider the matter. At last, she'd decided not to give up her dream on account of him. Besides, the campus was big, much bigger than their high school, with a population of just over five hundred. Avoiding him shouldn't be hard…

"I thought you'd go somewhere fancy, out of state," he said. "Like Juilliard." Again, Madge blinked in surprise. Katniss couldn't have told him that she'd been accepted there as well. It wasn't on the bulletin board. Reading her thoughts, Gale said, "My dad told me. It was in the newspaper."

Madge didn't read the paper, but she wasn't surprised. Not many people from their poor, little mining town went to, or even got accepted to, prestigious universities like Julliard. It was big news, considering most people didn't even go to college.

"Don't get me wrong," said Gale. "Capitol U is a great school, but it's not ivy league. I don't get why you'd choose it over a place like Julliard. I mean, it's not like you don't have the money for it."

Madge looked down at her lap. She felt him studying her, waiting, but she didn't speak, just picked at the frayed hem of his jacket.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" said Gale. Even though she wasn't looking at him, she could hear that smirk she hated so much in his voice. "You're madly in love with me and can't stand the thought of being so far away. It's okay, just admit it."

Madge laughed. She'd admit to the existence of ghosts before she admitted to being in love with him. Really, by comparison, ghosts were as real as the mildewed mattress beneath her. "I don't make decisions based on you," she said. "Check your ego, Hawthorne, before it crushes you."

"Really?" said Gale. "So you decided to come out here tonight, because you wanted to, and not because I called you a coward?"

"I…" Madge had no arguments. He had her and he knew it. He was right. Well, he was a little right. She'd come very close to rejecting Capitol U, because of him. She was here, because of him. She'd made countless ridiculous choices, because of him. Right then, she felt more foolish than ever. Try as she might to deny it, he definitely had a strong influence on her, stronger than most people, and as that realization set in, she wondered again what she was trying to prove, why she felt compelled to prove anything to him.

Blushing furiously, Madge leapt to her feet. "This is stupid," she said. _This is stupid and I don't want to be here._ "I'm going."

"The night isn't over yet, Undersee. If you quit now-"

Madge was nearing the door when she froze. "Did you hear that?" she interrupted him. Before Gale could answer, a blood chilling, raspy moan came from outside. Madge backed away from the door and bumped into Gale, standing now. One quick look at him was enough to answer her question. Yes, he'd heard it.

"What-?"

Gale shushed her. He listened hard, but didn't have to listen long before the inhuman moan came again. For all of his talk about maybe believing in ghosts, he hadn't expected to actually encounter one, just like he never expected to go to France. He didn't have time to process, to rationalize, before something pounded forcefully on the door. Madge let out a strangled shriek. Without thinking, she reached for the nearest thing to hold onto, Gale's arm. Vaguely, he wondered at how strong her grip was, surprising for someone so small and frail looking, who'd never done a hard day's work in her life. He didn't have time, either, to think about how she'd gotten so strong.

The door flew open, banging against the wall, and they both screamed. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the beam of the flashlight he'd dropped when jumping to his feet, was a cloaked and hooded figure with a gruesome, twisted, and bloody face. He threw Madge behind him, putting himself between her and...and...whatever demon had crawled up from hell. She clutched the back of his shirt, trembling, trapped. There was nowhere to run, no other exit, unless they tried to escape through one of the busted windows, but she was frozen in terror. Everything she'd never believed in, every monster from every movie she'd seen, every nightmare she'd ever had, suddenly seemed very real.

"Trespassers," the creature groaned, stepping towards them. "You shouldn't have come here." It moved closer, closer, arms outstretched, a reaper, the angry spirit of the crazed miner, death itself approaching. Gale stumbled away, pushing Madge along with him, until her back hit the wall. He felt her quickened, panicked breath on his neck.

"Now you will pay," the creature said, less than a foot away. "Pay for daring to…" The creature reached up to its face. "...make your friends come out here in the middle of the night for a dumbass dare," said Katniss in her own voice as she ripped off the mask. Delly appeared in the window just to Gale and Madge's left.

"Gotcha," she said, shining her flashlight at them.

* * *

On the walk back to the cars, Katniss and Delly were overcome by fits of laughter, remembering the terrified looks on their friends' faces, every couple of minutes. Gale and Madge were not amused. They didn't speak the entire way, both of them torn between anger, humiliation, and a pinch of betrayal. They had begun the night as enemies and, somehow, ended in an unspoken alliance against their friends.

"You screamed like a little girl," said Katniss.

"Seriously, I couldn't tell your scream from Madge's," added Delly.

"Shut up," Madge and Gale said together. They exchanged an awkward glance, uncomfortable at being on the same side for once. Gale looked away first. It was bad enough that Katniss had made a fool of him. Even worse that it'd been in front of Undersee. He'd gotten what he wanted, in a way. Madge had certainly been scared senseless. She was still a little pale. When they reached the place where they'd parked, she marched straight to her car, got in, and slammed the door behind her.

"God, I wish I'd taken pictures," said Delly. She seemed much happier than she had at the beginning of their adventure. Katniss tried to imitate Gale's expression from when she'd burst through the door of the old miner's lodge. Unable to stand the next wave of their laughter, Gale followed after Madge. She sat in the driver's seat with her forehead pressed against the steering wheel. When he rapped his knuckles against the window to get her attention, she startled, hitting the horn. A few feet away, Katniss and Delly laughed even harder.

Madge rolled down the window. "What?" she snapped at him.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Madge rolled her eyes. _Yeah right._ The whole point of tonight had been to scare her. "What do you want?" she said again, only wanting to go home, forget tonight ever happened. She couldn't believe she'd let herself fall for the prank. To believe in monsters for even second, to be so scared that she clung to Hawthorne for protection. That was the worst of it. She was more embarrassed about grabbing onto him than anything else.

"My jacket," said Gale, unable to look directly at her, not after having _screamed like a girl_ in her presence. Madge wriggled free of the jacket and passed it to him through the window. Their hands brushed for a second and, with a fresh wave of embarrassment, she remembered the feel of his arm in her grip, the tightness of his muscles. And then she remembered something else. The way he'd pushed her behind him, standing between her and what they'd thought was death itself. Now that she wasn't fearing for her life, she wondered why he'd reacted that way, why he hadn't thrown her at the danger instead. She'd been so busy beating herself up over looking to him for protection that she hadn't given much thought to the fact that he'd unquestioningly tried to protect her.

"Thank you," she blurted. Gale looked at her confused. "For the jacket," she added quickly. She couldn't quite bring herself to address out loud what she was really thanking him for.

Gale twisted his jacket in his hands. Finally, he worked up the nerve to meet her gaze. There was an odd look in his eyes that she couldn't decipher and wasn't sure she wanted to. Then, quick as lightning, it was gone. He gave her that insufferable smirk again. "'I'll see you around next year," he said, a promise and a threat in his tone. He was glad she'd chosen Capitol University. Over the past year, he'd realized how boring life was without her around to torment. He'd almost...missed her.

Madge watched him walk back to Katniss, still wondering about why he'd shielded her, given her his jacket, looked at her just now in that funny way. When Delly climbed into the passenger seat, though, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. It didn't matter why. She didn't care. He was still Gale Hawthorne and she still hated his smug, smirking face. They were ending tonight on a truce, but she knew there would be more battles to come next year, and she didn't plan on being caught off guard again.


	12. Trick-or-Treat (The Treat)

**AN:** Estrunk, since your were disappointed that the last chapter was so platonic, here's a little bit of fun Halloween themed fluff for you ;) As always, thanks for all of your reviews. I'm sorry I haven't been posting as much. Life is crazy right now and I'm working pretty seriously on my novel...but never dear, I will always return to Gale and Madge.

* * *

 **SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **October**

Johanna Mason's Halloween parties were legendary. Madge had never been to one, but she'd heard stories. It was the event everyone waited for, impatiently, all year long. There were so many people in attendance that Gale had to park two blocks away from the house. He went to open his door, but paused when Madge didn't move. She stared ahead, biting her bottom lip, wringing her hands in her lap, nervous as hell. He knew how she felt about big parties.

"We don't have to stay long," he said. "I promised I'd drop in, though." Jo would never forgive him for missing the party. To be honest, he wouldn't forgive himself. Just like everyone else, he'd been looking forward to this for months. Besides, it wasn't just the party that had him sparking with excited anticipation. Tonight, by coming together, dressed as President Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe, Gale and Madge were going public with their relationship. They'd kept it secret for the past month, under Madge's insistence, though he was dying to scream from the rooftops that she was finally his.

"I just need a minute," said Madge. It wasn't the party making her nervous. She still wasn't a fan of large crowds, but over the past few years, she'd grown in confidence. What troubled her was announcing to the world, to her friends, that she was dating Gale Hawthorne. She shifted in her seat to face him. "Maybe we should wait a little longer," she said. "I don't know if I'm ready to go public."

Gale winced. He'd tried to hide the fact that it stung, her adamancy to keep their relationship hush, and he'd tried to be patient, understanding, when the truth was he didn't understand at all. In fact, he was offended.

"What's your problem?" he said, harsher than he intended. He was sick of waiting, felt he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life without realizing it. Apparently, she didn't feel the same. Apparently, it was okay to sleep with him as long as no one knew. He couldn't help his old doubts and insecurities from surfacing. She was ashamed to be seen with him out in the open.

Reading his expression, brewing with hurt and anger, Madge said firmly, "Stop that right now."

"Stop what?" he snapped.

"Thinking what you're thinking."

"Well, what am I supposed to think?" he said. "If you don't want to be with me, then just say so."

Madge looked hurt and that only made him angrier. If anyone had the right to be upset, it was him. She hadn't had any qualms about publicly dating Finnick. He couldn't help thinking that she was only using him, for the sex, to inflate her self-esteem, which was usually _his_ role in the relationship. Being with her, everything was reversed. He was the one who was supposed to bolt at the first sign that things were turning serious. He wasn't used to being the one doing the chasing and he didn't much care for it. When she reached out to him, he jerked away.

"I do want to be with you," said Madge, letting her hands fall back into her lap. "More than anything."

"As long as no one else knows," he muttered. "But I can't be your dirty, little secret anymore, Undersee."

It was Madge's turn to wince. He hadn't called her by her surname in a long time. "It's not you," she said. "None of this has anything to do with how I feel about you. It's…" _It's me,_ she thought lamely. Since when had she become such a cliche? She searched for the right words to explain how she felt. Being with Finnick had never been this complicated. Then again, since starting this whole thing with Gale, she'd realized that being with Finnick had been so easy because she didn't care for him half as much as she did Gale. And that was the root of her fear. They'd only been together, officially, for a little over a month, and already she couldn't imagine being with anyone else ever again. She kept waiting to wake up one morning to find him gone, run off with someone else, back to his old habits of loving and leaving.

Going public, telling their friends, would make everything real. As long as it was just the two of them, she didn't have to think too hard about their relationship. It could continue being like something from a fairy tale, impossible, wonderfully imaginary.

"I don't want to lose you," she finally said, her voice faint, seeming to come from leagues away. She looked at the window, watching a group of trick-or-treaters pass by. That's how she felt with Gale, like their relationship was trick-or-treat, and she was waiting for the trick.

"What the hell are you talking about?" said Gale, more confused than angry now. After all, he wasn't the one hesitating on the starting line. He was ready to leap ahead at full speed and had made that clear time and time again. Or he thought he'd made it clear. Then again, he was new at this.

Madge sighed. The trick-or-treaters turned the corner and she looked back to him. "If we tell everyone," she said, "then it's official. Then when you realize how messed up I am, and decide to leave, I won't be able to take it. Really, you should go ahead and run now, because I'm not good, Gale. You deserve better. You deserve someone who isn't so...so crazy."

Stunned, Gale gaped at her. How could she think that she wasn't good enough? She was everything. She was kind and generous, the brightest person he'd ever known, and capable of holding her own. He knew about her problems, had known for a while now, but if anything, knowing was the reason he'd fallen in love with her to begin with. She didn't hide from her issues. She faced them, she persevered, and that's what made her so beautiful in his eyes. Because of the way her mother died, because of her father never being around, she didn't think it was possible that anyone could love her the way he did. Sometimes, in moments like these, he hated her parents for what they'd done.

"Margaret Undersee," he said seriously, cupping her face in his hands and looking at her hard. "I'm not going anywhere. Not as long as you want me around. I mean it, cross my heart, hope to die, I'm in this thing for the long haul. I want everyone to know that you're mine, and I'm yours, because I'm proud to be your boyfriend. I'm proud of you and I'm…" He trailed off for a minute, staring into her deep blue eyes, lost in them, in over his head, drowning and ecstatic. "And I'm so fucking in love with you that I can't think straight, I can't breathe, or make any kind of sense, when you're not around."

Madge's eyes widened. Had Gale Hawthorne just said that he was in love with her? She didn't dare believe it. He barely believed it himself. Never in his life had he spoken those three words to a girl, but they felt so right, so surprisingly easy. He'd known her his whole life and only just now realized that he'd been madly in love with her for most of that time.

"Well?" he said after a minute, growing uncomfortable in the silence left over after his declaration. "You going to leave me hanging?"

At a loss for words, Madge flung herself across the middle console. Her lips crashed against his, kissing him as she never had before, with the wild force of a hurricane. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him close, but it could never be close enough. When she broke away, saw the dazed look on his flushed face, the dopey smile on his swollen lips, she laughed.

"So, you love me, too?" he said.

"Yeah, I love you." She smoothed down his tousled hair, returning his dopey smile with one of her own. "Come on, Mr. President," she said. "Let's go make this affair public."

Gale got out of the car, rounded the front, and opened her door. "Miss Monroe," he said, offering his hand. As soon as she was standing, he stepped back to admire her in the streetlight glow. The white dress she'd found at Goodwill was a close match to the one from Marilyn Monroe's iconic flying skirt photo. His gaze travelled along the low cut neckline, revealing a modest, but tantalizing, strip of skin. He touched the string of pearls around her neck, letting them slip through his fingers. Her carefully curled hair was slightly crushed from their heated kiss in the car.

"Gale," she said warningly, reading the look in his eyes. The music from the party reached them from the other end of the street, but suddenly, after months of waiting for the party of the year, Gale wasn't excited to attend. He ignored Madge's warning, wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her bright red mouth. The car was cold against her back, but he was so warm, pressed against her, his free hand sliding down her side, over her hip, bunching her dress, raising it higher up her thigh.

"The party," she said, gasping for breath, as his lips moved along her jaw, her neck. He caught her pearls between his teeth and gave them a little tug.

"Let's forget the party," he said. All he wanted to do now was go back to their place, show her just how much he loved her in the best way he knew how, with hands and mouth, with touch. He swooped in for another kiss, but she put her hands to his chest, holding him back.

"What about the big reveal?" she said, frowning a little. He'd spent the past week pestering her to come to this party with him, to announce themselves to the world. None of that seemed important to him anymore, though. She was his. He was hers. Nothing, and no one, else mattered. Keeping one hand at her waist, he fished his phone from his pocket and typed out a quick text message to Katniss. _Me and Undersee are a couple. Spread the word._ He showed the message to Madge, before punching send.

"There, it's done," he said. "Now let's get out of here."

Madge tossed back her head and laughed. Easy as that, via text message, they were official. All of her fussing and fretting had been for nothing. "Alright," she said, curling her fingers into the lapels of his suit. "I can't really argue with the Commander and Chief of the United States army, after all."

"You can try," said Gale. Madge pushed up onto the tips of her toes, leaning into him for support, and put her lips close to his ear.

"I can think of better ways to waste my energy," she said. Then she ducked out of his embrace, flashed a devious smile, full of promise that tonight would be a thousand times better than Johanna Mason's Halloween party, and dropped back into the passenger seat of the car. "Hurry up, Mr. President, before I change my mind about you."

Gale shut the door. As he hurried back to the driver's side, his phone buzzed. He read Katniss' reply ( _Like we didn't all already know...)_ and smiled, before turning off his phone. No more distractions tonight. Just him and Madge. He didn't want anything more.


	13. First Impressions Go a Long Way

**SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **March**

Gale's beat-up, old Ford was out of place parked beside the mayor's shiny, new Cadillac

in the Undersee's wrap-around drive. The truck had belonged to his father. He wasn't ashamed of it. Not now. Not ever. He walked with confidence to the mayor's front door, refusing to be intimidated by the grandiose mansion looming four stories tall. Whatever happened tonight, Madge loved him, whether or not her parents approved. Still, he meant to make a damn good impression, not for his own sake, and not because he felt he had anything to prove, but only for Madge. He didn't want to be a source of tension between his girlfriend and her father. They had enough problems between them without him.

Gale reached the door, before he realized that Madge was no longer beside him. He

turned around to find her frozen a few feet back, looking at her own house like she was afraid to go inside. The sight pained him. This place had never been a happy home for her. This was where her mother died. He used to envy her palace on the hill, until he'd learned what a cold and lonely place it was.

"Madge," he said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Give me a sec," she said. She took a few deep breaths. Gale gave her a second, then a

minute, and then five minutes.

"Madge," he said again, sighing a little. He cupped her face between his large hands, stroked her cold cheeks with his thumbs, and made her look him in the eyes. "I love you. Stop worrying. I can do this. I know which fork I'm supposed to use for desert, and I won't put my elbows on the table and I know how to drink my tea." He moved one hand from her to cheek to take a sip from an imaginary teacup with his pinky out. Madge rewarded him with a shaky chuckle.

"We're not that posh," she said, slapping down his hand.

"My sincerest apologies, Madame," said Gale in an over-the-top British accent. He

bowed deeply. "Should I not expect any ladyfingers, then? No crumpets and brandy before dinner?"

This time Madge laughed so hard she snorted. "God, you're ridiculous," she said, leaning

against him. Gale circled his arms around her waist. He kissed the tip of her freckled nose.

"Anything to make you smile, Madame," he said. "And now that I've proved what a

gentleman I am, can we go inside before I freeze my balls off out here."

Madge snuggled closer to him. Her hands slid down his back to cup his gloriously firm

ass. "I know a better way to warm up," she said, giving him a squeeze. She wasn't above playing

dirty, but neither was he. He swooped in to kiss her neck. His tongue flicked over her pulse point. When she made a soft, mewling sound, he pulled away, a crooked grin slapped across his lips.

"Nice try, Undersee," he said. "But you're just going to have to wait." Madge wrinkled her

nose in annoyance. Gale gave her pouty lips a quick peck. "Maybe if you're very, very good, I'll play with your favorite toy later tonight," he added.

"Bribery isn't gentlemanly behavior, Mr. Hawthorne," said Madge.

Gale shrugged. "I'm only following your lead." He took her arm the way men always did

in the old movies his ma loved. "Now may I have the honor of escorting you through the gates of Hell?"

Madge's apprehension returned in full force. She nodded. This had been her idea, after

all, though she couldn't remember why in the world she'd thought it was a good one.

"I don't know about the ladyfingers," she muttered as they approached the door, "but I

hope there's plenty of brandy."

Any liquor would do. The harder the better.

* * *

This wasn't Gale's first visit to the mayor's house. He hoped the Undersees had forgotten the first time (they didn't know about the second and third), but as soon as the butler led them through to the den, the look on Mrs. Undersee's face clearly said she had not forgotten nor forgiven him. Of course, she hadn't been _Mrs._ Undersee the last time they met. She was still Effie Trinket, the mayor's personal assistant.

"You're late, Margaret," said Mr. Undersee. He tapped the gold watch glinting on his wrist. Madge's nails dug into Gale's arm. She was about to speak, but Gale beat her to it.

"It's my fault, Sir," he said, taking the blame, though it wasn't his fault and he'd spent most of the evening hurrying Madge along. "I got stuck at work longer than I expected."

"And where do you work?" said Mrs. Effie Undersee. Madge simply called her _The Stepmother_ , or when she was particularly angry, _The Wicked Bitch of the Upper West Side._ The woman eyed Gale over her martini as if he were a rodent that had managed to sneak into her house.

"I'm a mechanic," said Gale.

"Such a dirty job," said the Stepmother. Her eyes seemed to search him for grease stains.

"Someone has to do it, dear," said Mr. Undersee. He smiled at Gale. There was something stiff about it, though. "I respect a man who puts his hands to good work. Please, have a seat. They should be setting out supper now. Can I have my man fix you a drink while we wait?"

"Yes," said Madge. "A jack and coke, please." Gale fought a grin. No fruity drinks for his girl tonight. Mr. Undersee frowned his disapproval, but gave the butler a nod.

"I'll have the same, thanks," said Gale. He and Madge sat across from the mayor and his wife. They fell into a thick silence while the butler prepared their drinks. Once he was finished, he offered them on a silver tray. Gale handed a glass to Madge, before taking his own. He took a sip. Madge finished her glass in a gulp and held it out for another. Mr. Undersee watched her, his frown becoming deeper, and opened his mouth to no doubt issue a reprimand. Once again, Gale intervened.

"Thank you for inviting me," he said. "You have a lovely home. Is the table oak?"

"Mahogany, actually," said the Stepmother. "I wouldn't be caught dead with oak. It's so...quaint."

"A little more rum this time," Madge said to the butler. She felt she'd need the whole decanter to survive the next two hours.

* * *

For half an hour, Gale and Mr. Undersee managed to make polite small talk. The mayor already knew quite a lot about him and his family. The only time Gale faltered was when Mr. Undersee brought up his father.

"We attended the same high school, you know," said Mr. Undersee. "He was a great man. This town will never forget him."

A lump stuck in Gale's throat. Madge took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Do you plan on going into mining like your father?" said the Stepmother. She pursed her bright red lips around the word _mining_ like it was distasteful, not a word to be used in proper company. For the first time that night, Gale's temper spiked. He pushed down the desire to reenact his previous meeting with the woman. Last time, he only stood to loose a stupid, summer catering job, but now, if he messed up, he risked losing Madge. His pride wasn't worth that.

"No," he said, calmly, if a little strained. "I'd like to-"

"Gale studied engineering," snapped Madge. She glared daggers at her stepmother. "He's brilliant at it. Someday, he's going to open his own firm."

"You've got big dreams, young man," said Mr. Undersee. His smile was genuine now and Gale relaxed, though Madge remained coiled and ready to strike. "What's your field?"

"Geotechnical," said Gale. He directed his gaze at the Stepmother. "I'd like to improve the current mining structures, make them safer for the workers."

"Of course," said Mr. Undersee. His voice was gentle. "I hope you'll start your work here. We've lost too many good men and women underground."

Gale smiled back at the mayor. He decided that he liked the man more than he'd expected to.

* * *

A maid announced that dinner was ready. As Gale escorted Madge to the dining room, he noticed she was a bit wobbly.

"I hate her," she muttered under her breath. Mr. and Mrs. Undersee were just ahead of them.

"Ssh," said Gale. He lowered his head to speak directly into her ear. "I can handle the Wicked Bitch. Don't pick a fight. Everything's going so well."

Madge let out a snort. Effie glanced back at them. When she turned around again, Madge mimicked her stepmother's snooty expression. It was a good impersonation. Gale couldn't help chuckling, even as he nudged Madge to make her stop.

"I'm serious," he said. "Let's get through this without a bloodbath. Your dad's nice. I think he likes me."

Madge scowled at the back of her father's head. He'd always respected the Hawthorne family. The problem wasn't getting him to like Gale. The problem was getting him to approve of a coal-miner's son dating his daughter. No matter how much he respected the Hawthornes, he didn't think they were good enough for his only child.

"Maybe you should ease up on the rum," said Gale, tightening his hold on her arm when she stumbled. She wasn't usually much of a drinker and he knew, after the three cocktails she'd downed, that she must be on the threshold of her tolerance. "Just relax, okay. It'll be over soon."

* * *

The soup and salad course passed without incident. To Gale's surprise, the mayor knew a fair amount about cars and was interested in Gale's opinion of which made for a better engine, internal or external combustion. All the same, Madge remained tense, waiting for the ball to drop. She picked at her food. There was no liquor served at the dinner table, so she made do with chardonnay. By the time the main course arrived, crab stuffed lobster tails which Gale struggled to eat without making a mess, Effie grew bored of the discussion. She turned her eyes on Gale, sizing him up again, and Madge braced herself for what she knew was coming.

"How do you like the lobster?" said the Stepmother.

"It's delicious," said Gale. Honestly, he was craving a burger and meant to stop in at the Hobb on their way home.

"Good," said Effie. "Thought I might give you a special treat. I assume you've never had lobster before. Not the real thing, at least."

 _Yeah,_ thought Gale, _we usually just eat dirt where I'm from._ He flashed his most charming smile at the woman. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to try the real thing," he said. "Did you cook it yourself?"

"Of course not," said Effie, offended by the suggestion, as he'd hoped she would be.

"Wouldn't want to mess up your nails," said Madge.

"Margaret," snapped Mr. Undersee. Gale recognized the rebellious gleam in his girlfriend's eyes and gave her a little kick under the table. Madge turned her scowl on him for a moment. She didn't appreciate being treated like a naughty child by her father and her boyfriend.

"Sorry Effie," she grumbled, stabbing at a green bean. "Your nails are lovely."

For awhile, no one spoke. Gale winced at the sound of Madge's knife scraping across her plate. She knew he hated that sound and suspected she was doing it to punish him just as much as her stepmother. Mr. Undersee cleared his throat and picked up the conversation again.

"So Gale, where are you living now that you've graduated?"

Gale's brow knit together. Sure, Madge and her father weren't close, but he was surprised she hadn't even told him where they lived. "Well, we've got an apartment near the City Circle, but I've been trying to talk Madge into moving to a quieter part of town after she's finished with school and doesn't have to worry about the commute. I've never much liked living in-"

This time, Madge kicked him, but there was nothing little about it. He almost yelped from the pain. He turned to her, saw her wide-eyed panicked, then looked back to Mr. Undersee, whose expression had gone suddenly stony, and he understood in a heartbeat the mistake he'd just made. _Aw shit,_ he thought, groaning inwardly. It would've been nice if Madge had mentioned the fact that she hadn't told her father they were living together.

"You told me you were still living with Katniss," said Mr. Undersee, eyeing his daughter sternly.

"I'm not," said Madge, shrugging. The cat was out of the bag now. No use lying. Besides, she was too tipsy to care much.

Mr. Undersee set down his fork. "Obviously," he said.

"What are you thinking, Margaret?" said Effie, her airy voice a hiss. "Your father's up for reelection next year. Imagine if the papers find out that you're shacking up with the likes of him." She waved a hand at Gale, talking about him like he wasn't present. "Your father's tried to be understanding, but this is too much."

"We're not _shacking up_ ," snarled Madge. She leaned forward as if she meant to jump across the table. "We're in a serious relationship."

The Stepmother rolled her eyes.

"Now Effie…" said Mr. Undersee warningly.

"No," said Effie. "Enough is enough. We've put up with this nonsense, hoping you'd come to your senses, but it's time to end the charade. This boy-" she shot a nasty look at Gale "-is not one of us. You have a reputation to uphold. Do you want to see your father's name dragged through the mud by association with some dirty pauper from-"

Madge leapt to her feet. "Shut-up! Shut the fuck up or I swear I'll...I'lll…" Her fists trembled at her sides. Gale had never seen her so angry. Despite the situation, and despite having been called a dirty pauper, his heart swelled with warmth. He wasn't the least bit upset. In fact, he felt like laughing at the Stepmother's shocked and indignant expression, the same one she'd worn the last time they met.

"You can't speak to me that way, young lady," said Effie, turning as red as her lipstick.

"What are you going to do about it, old lady?" Madge threw back at her. "Disown me? Too bad you'd have to be my mother to do that and you're not. You'll never be. My mother was a thousand times the woman you'll ever be."

"Margaret Abigail Undersee," said the mayor. "That's enough out of you. Sit down and let's discuss this like adults."

"No thanks," said Madge. "Since you want me to be an adult and won't send me to my room, I think I'll just send myself." She spun around and marched off, behaving more like a teenager than she had when she'd actually been one. She stumbled into the doorframe, gave it a hard kicked, and cursing loudly at her stubbed toe, disappeared. Her heavy footsteps echoed through the house, up the stairs, followed shortly by the sound of a slamming door.

Gale couldn't control himself any longer. He burst out laughing. Mr. and Mrs. Undersee stared at him as if he'd gone insane. Maybe he had. It was just so unlike Madge to throw a temper tantrum. The whole night was just so...goddamn absurd.

"S...s...sorry," gasped Gale. "I should, erm, go check on her."

* * *

Gale had never entered Madge's bedroom through the door. The past two times he'd come here, he used the window. She didn't stop pacing when he came in. Her hair had tumbled loose from its bun and now frizzed around her furiously flushed face. For a minute, he leaned against the wall and watched her, amazed at his good luck for landing the most beautiful woman in the world.

"That was fantastic," he said. "You didn't tell me there was going to be a show with dinner."

Madge stopped pacing. She looked at him sheepishly. "You're not mad?"

"Hell no," said Gale.

"But I started a bloodbath," she said. "You told me not to."

Gale crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. "Forget about everything I've said tonight. How could I be angry when you so valiantly defended my honor back there?"

Madge grinned up at him. "Anytime," she said. "You're my damsel. I'll never let anyone insult your honor and get away with it."

"Your damsel?" said Gale, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup," said Madge. "And I am your knight in shining armor."

"You're completely wasted, that's what you are."

Madge prepared to protest, but he kissed her before she had the chance. Her response was swift and eager. Liquor always did make her frisky. Though he knew he should break away, his body refused to listen to reason. After her recent performance, he only wanted to let her soil his honor as much as she pleased.

"Is that oak?" said Madge when she grabbed his growing erection through his dress slacks.

"Mahogany, actually," said Gale. Kissing him again, she giggled into his mouth as her hands worked on his belt. Once she slid it free of the loops, she kissed along his neck, catching his tie between her teeth and, with a growl, gave it a hard tug.

"Alright, wild thing," said Gale. "We should probably go downstairs and try to make amends."

Madge wasn't listening. She dropped to her knees and yanked his pants down over his hips. "Come on, Madge," said Gale, trying to keep a serious tone, but his breath came quick and uneven. "We can't…" His protests broke off into a moan as her lips closed around him. _What the hell?_ he thought. Making a good impression wasn't likely to happen now anyway and she was too damn skilled with that pretty, pink tongue.

"Christ, Undersee," said Gale, watching her. She met his gaze with impish blue eyes

through blonde lashes. "You're fucking crazy," he said. "Very...very...misbehaved." As if to prove his point, she took him in all the way. Gale fisted his hands in her hair. Neither of them heard the door open over the string of expletives flooding past his lips, but they did hear the shriek.

Madge fell back onto her rear. Gale yanked up his pants. They both turned to the maid in the doorway. The woman stared bug-eyed at them, her mouth wide open in horror and her face red as the lobster they'd had for dinner. After what felt like a lifetime of awkward silence, Madge said very calmly, "We'll be down in a moment."

The maid snapped out of it. She spun on her heels and fled, leaving the door open. As soon as she was gone, Madge broke into another fit of giggles. She was still snorting with laughter by the time Gale buckled his belt and hefted her off of the floor.

"She won't tell your father, will she?" he said, not nearly as amused. Maybe if he'd been as drunk as her...Cold stone sober, however, he felt a bit sick.

"Probably," said Madge. "They always report back to him. He's used the maids to spy on me since, well, forever."

"Great," muttered Gale. He wrapped his arm around Madge's waist to steady her and took a step towards the door, prepared to meet his demise, certain that Mayor Undersee wouldn't let him the leave this mansion alive.

"Wait," said Madge. She slipped away from him and moved in the opposite direction from the door. "Let's just go." She reached the window, turned the lock, and pushed it open. A blast of icy air blew into the room. Gale looked from the window, to the door, and then back to the window. The right thing to do was face Mr. Undersee, apologize, prove to the man that he was responsible, mature, good enough for his daughter.

"I want to go home, Gale," said Madge. "Please, can you just take me home now?"

And in an instant, Gale forgot about Mr. Undersee and the Stepmother. He didn't give a damn about them, or what they thought of him, and he knew neither did Madge. This mansion wasn't her home. It hadn't been for a long time. Home was their boxy, little apartment with the mysteriously stained carpet and crappy water pressure. Home was the two of them eating greasy burgers from the Hobb in bed.

"Yeah, let's go home," said Gale. He went through the window first to guide her rung by rung down the trellis. Sneaking out felt much more natural than being ushered in through the front door by a butler. Madge's feet hit the ground and she grabbed his hand. Together, they ran like crazy to his beat-up, old truck and didn't look back.

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This won't be the last you see of Mr. and Mrs. Undersee. I don't know why I love the idea of Effie as the stepmother so much. She'll get a little redemption later on.


	14. April Fools

**FRESHMAN YEAR (college)**

 **April**

For the first time in his college career, Gale had arrived early to a Monday morning class, French II. He watched the door. At ten minutes to 8A.M., Katniss shuffled into the classroom. She collapsed into the empty chair beside him and immediately put her head down on the desk. Gale flicked her elbow. "Where's Undersee?" he said. The two girls usually arrived together. Katniss ignored him, so he flicked her again.

"Glimmer," she grumbled through her folded arms on the desk. Gale understood without further explanation. Glimmer, their suitemate, was prone to hogging their shared bathroom. Judging by Katniss' greasy bun, she'd decided to forego a shower this morning, but Undersee wouldn't be caught dead in public without clean hair. Either she was waiting for Glimmer to finish or she'd gone to Johanna's for a quick wash before class. _Good,_ thought Gale. The longer it took Undersee to get here, the fuller the room would be.

"Bonjour les élèves," said Madame Octavia, greeting her groggy students. Katniss lifted her head from the desk and glowered sleepily at their cheery professor. Madame Octavia was halfway through roll-call by the time Madge hurried through the door.

"Désolé Madame," she said breathlessly as she wove through the crowded desks to her usual seat in the front row. Madame Octavia smiled at her. Undersee could do no wrong in the eyes of the faculty. If she'd been fifty minutes late instead of five, Madame Octavia still would've smiled at her. _Kiss-ass,_ thought Gale. She deserved what was coming to her. He held his breath as Undersee went to sit. As soon as her rump touched the seat, the air-horn which he'd duct-taped underneath her chair blasted off. Shrieking, Madge leapt back up. She wasn't the only one. The class was wide awake now, except for Katniss, who'd fallen asleep again and wouldn't have woken for anything less than the end of the world.

Their classmates' shock soon turned to a choir of laughter. Madge, still standing and blushing furiously, whipped her head around. Her cold blue eyes locked onto Gale in the last row. Grinning, he gestured for her to look under her chair. Her damp hair swung over her shoulder as she bent down and found the mini air-horn attached to her seat. When she ripped it free, a slip of paper fell to the floor. She unfolded the note and read quickly, her eyes growing even colder as she did. _Happy April Fool's Day, Undersee._

* * *

"I hate him," said Madge. "He's just so...so childish, and immature, and-"

"Childish and immature mean the same thing," said Finnick. They were catching a break on the quad between their morning classes. For the past ten minutes, he'd listened to Madge rant about Gale Hawthorne's latest insult. Personally, he thought the prank was a little funny, if somewhat unoriginal, but he knew better than to share his thoughts with Madge. She didn't take lightly to being publicly humiliated. He wanted to tell her to ease up, have a laugh, move on, but that wasn't her nature. It wasn't that she didn't have a sense of humor, as long as she wasn't on the receiving end of the joke.

"I don't know what his deal is," said Madge. "I wish he'd leave me alone already. I'm so tired of this crap."

Finnick reached out and caught her around the waist. He pulled her into his lap and held her tight against his chest. "Here's what you need to do," he said. "Retaliate."

Madge pursed her lips. "I won't stoop to his level," she said. "Unlike Hawthorne, I'm an adult."

"You're nineteen," said Finnick, chuckling. "Stop being so serious for once. You know you want to get back at him. Don't lie."

Madge did want revenge. She wanted to prove that she wasn't a pushover, but she'd never pulled a prank before. "I don't know how," she admitted.

"Lucky thing you have a boyfriend with a few tricks up his sleeves," said Finnick. "I'm willing to share my secrets in exchange for a kiss."

Madge thought it was a very fair price to pay.

* * *

Katniss had managed to steal a shower after la classe français, but her mood had not improved. At lunch, she found Gale in the cafeteria, pointed to Madge sitting by the windows, and flatly demanded, "Apologize."

"Why?" said Gale through a mouthful of pineapple and pepperoni pizza. "Can't she take a joke?"

"You know she can't," said Katniss. "And I'm the one that lives with her. I'm the one that has to listen to her complain about you. I am not in the mood today, Gale. Go. Apologize. Now."

Gale looked to Thom and Bristel for support. They avoided his gaze, both of them too afraid of Katniss when she was in a mood like this to say anything. "Fine," said Gale, a little afraid of Katniss himself. He knew what his cousin was capable of on a day when her morning routine had been disrupted. He dragged his feet across the cafeteria.

Madge was alone with her nose in a book. The remains of her salad, a few peppers and wilted lettuce leaves, swam in a pool of ranch dressing. Gale cleared his throat to announce himself and she glanced up from her reading.

"Katniss wants me to apologize for this morning," he said. "It was just a stupid prank. No need to be so sore about the whole thing." He knew the apology was less than satisfactory and waited for her to make some snippy comment about his lack of manners. Madge surprised him.

"I'm not mad. It is April Fool's Day, after all," she said. She offered out her hand to him. "Can we call a truce, though?"

Gale took her hand and they shook on it. He was pleased with how easy this whole apology thing had been. As soon as he dropped her hand, Madge buried her nose in her book again. Gale returned to Thom, Bristel, and Katniss.

"You've got something in your eye," said Katniss. Gale rubbed at the corner of his eye. "Other one," she said, so he moved his hand to his other eye. Katniss' stormy expression shifted to a mischievous grin.

"What?" said Gale, unnerved.

"Nothing," she said, shrugging. Then she stood and sauntered on over to Madge. She was halfway across the cafeteria when Gale's eyes suddenly began to burn. He blinked rapidly, which only seemed to make the burning worse.

"Dude, are you crying?" said Thom. Sure enough, tears streamed down Gale's cheeks. His eyes were on fire. _What the fuck?_ He began to panic, furiously rubbing his eyes, when the pieces fell into place. Since when was Undersee so forgiving? Since when did she call truces and shake hands? Through burning and watery eyes, Gale looked to her table again. She and Katniss were watching him. He could hear their laughter clear across the room. Madge plucked a pepper off of her plate and, holding his gaze, took a bite.

Pepper juice in the eyes. Classic. Gale might've been more impressed if it hadn't been for the pain. Half-blind, he raced out of the cafeteria, to the nearest bathroom, and tried to ignore the curious stares and whispers.

* * *

Within an hour, Gale had heard a hundred rumors explaining why he'd fled the cafeteria in tears, each one more absurd than the last. Thom, who knew the truth, had started half of the rumors himself. Gale didn't expect any better from his friend. He wasn't even surprised that Katniss had betrayed him. However, he still couldn't believe Madge Undersee orchestrated the whole thing. He didn't think she had it in her, but he wouldn't be so gullible next time. If it was war she wanted, so be it.

* * *

Madge's bookbag was always heavy, but by the time she reached the Humanities lecture hall, her shoulder ached something fierce and she was panting as if she'd just run an uphill marathon. She dropped her bag to the floor and it hit with a dull thud. When she went for her notebook, her fingers curled around something round and smooth. Instead of her college-ruled notebook, she withdrew a fist-sized stone. Madge stuck her arm back into the bag and emptied it stone by stone. There were a dozen variously sized and shaped rocks. Her books, pencils, pens, and papers were all gone. _Hawthorne_ , she thought, grinding her teeth together.

* * *

After gym, Gale hit the showers. He checked his shampoo, just in case Madge had managed to sneak some crazy colored dye into the bottle. Seemed safe. He lathered up, rinsed, cut off the water, and stuck his arm past the shower curtain. His hand grasped at empty air where his towel should've been. Thinking it had fallen to the floor, he popped his head out of the shower. His towel was nowhere to be seen. His clothes, which he'd laid out on the sink counter, were gone as well.

Madge had left a message on the steamy mirror. _You'll get your clothes back when I get my books._ Gale drew the curtain closed. He stood dripping and shivering, planning his next attack while he waited for someone with a spare pair of sweats to come along.

* * *

April Fool's Day was almost over. Madge counted the minutes. She jumped at every little sound, hesitated to round any corners after Gale had surprised her with a slushie to the face that afternoon, and had stayed in the safety of her room, with the door bolted, once her last class of the day let out. She was particularly proud of convincing Johanna to call him out on the quad for giving her herpes. All it had cost was a gift card to Target and the promise of doing Jo's Physics homework for the next month. Gale's mortified expression, however, was priceless. Of course he'd made her pay by somehow getting his hands on a pair of her granny panties, reserved for that special time of the month, and pinning them up on the bulletin board in the Student Union. Just the thought of him rummaging through her underwear drawer was embarrassment enough.

They were even now, five to five, and Madge was ready for it to be over. Her nerves were stretched too thin and she was out of ideas. She hoped Gale was as well. Despite her still aching back from the switch-a-roo with the rocks and the fact that her panties had been put on display, she was proud of herself. Maybe Gale Hawthorne would think twice the next time he tried to make her his April Fool's target. She had proved that she'd no longer take his childish antics without putting up a fight and she meant to give Finnick a monumental thank-you for encouraging her to stand up for herself.

Madge took special care getting ready for their dinner date. She brought out the red dress she'd been saving since Christmas for a special occasion. It was more revealing than anything she was used to wearing. Short, tight around the bust and hips, and completely backless. It took an hour to curl her hair and apply her make-up, but the finished product was well worth the effort. She admired herself in the full-length mirror and hardly recognized the image staring back at her.

Standing behind her, Katniss let out a low wolf whistle. "Someone's getting laid tonight," she said. Madge blushed to match her dress. She and Finnick hadn't made it to that stage of their relationship yet. She was hoping tonight would be the night.

"Use a condom," Katniss called after her as she hurried to the door. "Don't listen to him if he tries to convince you otherwise."

Madge closed the door on her roommate. Finnick was the perfect gentleman. He'd been nothing but considerate. She wasn't worried. She was ready for this moment and couldn't think of anyone she trusted more to share it with. All thoughts of Gale Hawthorne were replaced by warm anticipation. Instead of riding to the restaurant together, Madge had insisted on meeting Finnick there. She wanted to surprise him with the dress.

She took the stairs two at a time. Each clip of her heels on the tiles boosted her confidence. She threw open the double front doors of the dormitory building and...a flood greeted her. Madge stood sputtering in an icy puddle. She tilted back her head and saw an empty bucket dangling above her. When she lowered her eyes, Gale Hawthorne was before her, doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach.

All of her hard work had been ruined. Water and black rivulets of eyeliner streamed down her cheeks. Her curls clung limp and soaked to her bare back. "Give up yet?" said Gale. Madge was too angry to speak. Without a word, she spun around and marched back into the building.

* * *

By the time Madge put herself together again and made it to the restaurant, she was two hours late. She nearly collided with Finnick as was walking out and she was racing in.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I-"

Finnick held up his hands to cut her off. He didn't want excuses. For two hours, he'd waited, picking apart breadsticks, becoming steadily more pissed off, and now he was just tired.

"Forget it, Madge," he said, brushing past her. "I'm going home."

Madge chased after him. She caught his arm to make him stop. "I really am sorry. I would've been here sooner, but Gale-"

Finnick snorted. Of course it had something to do with Gale. He wasn't even surprised. "Is there something going on between the two of you?" he said. Madge's jaw dropped.

"Wh...what?" she said.

"Were you together in high school?"

"No," said Madge. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Me and Gale? Never. Not in a millions years. Why would you even think that?"

Finnick frowned. He jerked free of her grip and folded his arms across his chest.

"You know I can't stand him," said Madge.

"Yeah, well, for someone you hate so much, you sure do talk about him a lot," said Finnick.

"Only to complain," snapped Madge. This was not the night she had planned for. They weren't supposed to be talking about Gale Hawthorne right now. Finnick's accusations needled her temper. "You're the one who told me to get back at him."

"I didn't think it'd go this far," he said. "You and Gale act like kindergartners on the playground. He pulls your hair, you throw dirt in his eyes, on and on and on. If you really hatd him, you wouldn't care so much."

Madge put her hands on her hips. "Since when are you so jealous?" she said. Finnick sighed. He let his arms drop to his sides.

"I'm not," he said. "But if there is something between the two of you, I don't want to get in the way."

"There's nothing between us," said Madge. She stomped her foot just like the kindergartner he'd accused her of being. "Please, can we just forget about this and enjoy the evening?"

"I need time to think," said Finnick. "So do you."

Before Madge could argue, he turned around and walked away, leaving her alone on the sidewalk. She watched him round the corner, wanting to run after him, convince him that he was wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to move. For the second time that night, she felt she'd been doused by a bucket of ice water.

* * *

Gale returned to his dorm from a one-on-one basketball skirmish with Thresh to find a smelly, old sock tied around the doorknob. Thom had company of the female variety. Gale put his ear to the door and listened to gauge how far things had progressed. "Oh yeah, baby, that's it, right there, right fucking-"

Gale withdrew. He'd have to study for his French exam somewhere else. The two common rooms on his floor were already occupied, so he tried the next floor down. The east-wing commons was dark, but that didn't mean no one was inside. Studying wasn't the only thing that happened in the common rooms. He knew from experience. Slowly, he pushed open the door, hoping he wasn't about to get an eye-full of co-eds going at it. There were no humping freshman. Just Madge Undersee curled up on the sagging couch under a pile of fuzzy blankets with a bowl cradled in her lap. She froze with a spoonful of brownie batter halfway to her mouth.

"Get lost, Hawthorne," she said miserably. "I'm out. You win." Light from the television flickered across her face and he saw that she'd been crying. Gale took a step back to leave, then he took another look at her bloodshot eyes and changed his mind. He entered the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Of all the pranks he'd pulled today, he hadn't meant to make Undersee cry.

"I told you I don't want to play anymore," said Madge.

"I heard you," said Gale. He sat on the opposite end of the couch. "Everything alright, Undersee?"

Madge didn't answer. She blew her nose on her sleeve, which was not something he'd ever expected to see the mayor's polished and posh daughter doing. Then he noticed the full box worth of tissues spread out around her feet.

"Geez, Undersee," he said. "It was just a couple of pranks. Nothing to cry over."

Still, Madge said nothing. She stared blankly at the television. A good five minutes passed and Gale was about to go, when she finally spoke. "I think Finnick broke up with me."

 _Ah,_ thought Gale. That better explained all of the tissues. He rubbed the back his neck, made uncomfortable by her sniffling confession. Her relationship problems were none of his business. All the same, he found himself asking, "What happened?"

"You," muttered Madge. She blew her nose again. It wasn't a very pretty sound. She didn't seem to care. Gale had never seen her so pathetic. He didn't like it. She wasn't the sort of girl who moped in darkened common rooms.

"Me?" he said, confused.

"He thinks we're in love," said Madge. Gale laughed before he could stop himself. Madge turned her head to glare at him.

"I guess not everyone can be pretty and smart," he said. "Your boyfriend's dumbass if he thinks you and me are in love."

Madge's glare melted. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes. Next thing Gale knew, she was sobbing into her blankets, her shoulders heaving. He grimaced. If only he'd left when he had the chance. He supposed he still could, but a surge of guilt held him in place. He hadn't meant for anything like this to happen. What had started as silly pranks had gone horribly awry.

"Please stop that," he said. Madge only cried harder. Hesitantly, unsure what else to do,

he reached out to pat her shoulder. "Seriously, Undersee, just go talk to him. Or I will, if you want."

Madge's head shot up and he quickly withdrew his hand. "No," she said. "You'll make it worse. You ruin everything. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. We were finally going to-" She stopped suddenly.

"Going to what?" said Gale.

"Nothing," she said. She stirred around the brownie batter in her lap. Her cheeks were bright red.

"Oh," said Gale, putting two and two together. "You haven't slept with him yet? For real?"

The spoon slipped through Madge's fingers. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the couch. "Not everyone is a slut like you," she said. To her surprise, Gale laughed again.

"You and Odair have been together for two months," he pointed out. Again, Madge was surprised. How did he know how long they'd been together? Did he have it marked on his calender or something? She didn't think he paid that much attention to her.

"Go talk to him," said Gale for a second time. "He'll come around. If he didn't get a little jealous every now and again, then you'd need to worry."

Madge wasn't convinced. She stayed rooted to the couch. Gale heaved a sigh. He stood, snatched the bowl from her lap, and used his free hand to pull her up. "Go," he said, giving her a gentle push towards the door. "Tell Odair how much you hate me. Actually, don't even mention me. Just knock on his door and when he answers, take your clothes off and-"

"Shut-up," said Madge, slapping him across the chest. Gale grinned at her. That was more like it.

"Trust me, Undersee," he said. "Works like a charm. All you've got to do is-"

"Gale Hawthorne, I swear, if you say another word I'll...I'lll…"

"What? Blush and stutter at me some more? I'm terrified." He gave her another little push. "Get out of here, Undersee. Kiss and make up with your boyfriend. Unless, of course, you are in love with me."

Madge slapped him again, but there was a faint smile on her lips now. "You're such a jerk," she said, turning away from him.

Once she was gone, Gale fell back onto the couch. He didn't much feeling like studying anymore. Instead, he burrowed under the blankets that Madge had left behind and dug into the brownie batter, trying not to think about Undersee and Odair making amends, touching, kissing, tangled up together. He didn't know why the thought bothered him so much. It wasn't like he was jealous or anything…

* * *

The next morning, Gale went out to the parking lot to find his truck covered from hood to tailgate in spray-painted dicks. There was a yellow post-it stuck to the windshield. He recognized Madge's handwriting immediately. _Thanks for the advice. I win._ It would seem that she and Odair had worked everything out. He balled up the post-it in his fist, but instead of tossing it away, he shoved it to the back of his glove box and then headed for the car wash. Undersee had won this round. She wouldn't be so lucky next April Fool's Day.


	15. Boys and Girls

**SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **Late May**

Gale heard Madge screaming from the third floor landing of the stairwell. _Here we go again,_ he thought, wondering what Thom had done to set her off this time. He debated turning around and crashing for the night on Katniss' and Peeta's couch. After a double shift at the auto-shop, he wasn't in the mood to play moderator between his roommates, but if he didn't intervene, Madge and Thom were likely to kill each other. He couldn't afford to pay the rent solo. Bracing himself for the storm, he walked down the hall like a man on his way to the gallows.

Madge stood at one end of the living room in her pink, fluffy bathrobe with her blonde curls piled atop her head and a murderous glint in her narrowed, blue eyes. Thom stood at the other end of the room, half-dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, holding his toothbrush like a sword to defend himself if necessary.

"I closed the door for a reason," said Madge.

"Chill out, would you," said Thom, waving his toothbrush in a wild arc. "It's not like I haven't you naked before, anyways."

Growling, Madge lunged at him. Gale caught her around the waist halfway across the room. She kicked at the air, screeching like a she-demon, desperately trying to get to Thom, who had ducked for cover behind the couch. Gale had heard and seen enough to know what the problem was. Thom must've walked in on her in the bathroom...again. He honestly didn't understand the idea of _personal space._ Growing up with three siblings in cramped quarters, Gale was used to being interrupted during all kinds of compromising situations. Madge, however, an only child and a stickler for privacy, was not accustomed to Thom's behavior.

"Let me go," said Madge. "I'll kill him. I'll-"

"That's what I'm trying to prevent," grunted Gale. He tightened his grip on Madge. When she was this angry, it was hard to hold her back. For such a small person, she put up one hell of a fight.

"She's demented," said Thom, popping up from behind the couch. "Worse than that goddamn cat of hers."

Madge yowled in the exact same manner as Buttercup when someone stepped on his tail. "You're not helping," Gale snapped at his friend. "Just get outta here."

Keeping a watchful eye on the still bloodthirsty Madge, Thom darted across the room, keeping his back close to the wall, and disappeared into the bathroom. Gale didn't let go of Madge until he heard the lock click. As soon as she was free, she raced headlong for the door. Gale caught her again, earning himself a back-handed slap across the face, and half-dragged, half-carried her to her room. He dumped her onto the bed and then planted himself in the doorway.

"Time-out, Undersee," he said sternly.

"Me?" hissed Madge. She threw herself at Gale, but he held firm, bracing himself with his hands against the doorframe. "I didn't do anything! He's the one with no boundaries. He's the one-"

"I knoooow," said Gale. "Just calm down before you hurt yourself." _Or me,_ he added silently. Madge stepped back. She collapsed onto the edge of her bed.

"If he walks in on me one more time, that's it," she said, panting. During all of her wild thrashing, her robe had slipped dangerously low on her shoulder. Gale decided now wasn't the time to mention it. Madge raged on. "I swear, I'll throw him out."

Gale knew her threat was an empty one. Neither he nor Thom had anywhere else to go. She was pissed now, but she'd never put Thom out on the streets, no more than she would Buttercup, despite all the scars that demon-cat had given her.

"It won't happen again, I promise," said Gale. "You know he doesn't mean any harm. He's just-"

"Inconsiderate, messy, loud, a gigantic pain in the-"

"Yeah," said Gale. He gave her a tired smile. "All of the above. I'll talk to him, alright?"

Madge folded her arms over her chest with a huff. She glared at him for a minute, before finally saying, "Alright."

"You might could lock the door next time," said Gale. In a flash, Madge was on her feet again. She shoved him out of the room and slammed the door in his face. The lock slid into place with a solid thunk. "Boys," he heard her snarl on the other side of the door.

 _Girls_ , thought Gale, shaking his head. He took a moment to catch his breath, before going to deal with Thom. The past month, he'd felt like the father of two unruly teenagers. Thom and Madge were almost worse than Vick and Rory. Almost.

* * *

Madge had never lived with a boy before. Now she found herself sharing a studio apartment with two of them. She was used to mess from her years spent living with Katniss, but this was mess on a whole other level. They never washed their dishes, left their clean and dirty laundry strewn all over the place, and never put their shoes on the rack by the door. She'd almost broken her neck over Gale's boots that morning and she'd lost count of how many times she'd fallen into the toilet, because one of them yet again forgot to put the seat down. They teased her passive aggressive post-it notes, told her to lighten up, they'd pick up after themselves tomorrow. Tomorrow came and they never did.

"I don't know how much longer I can live like this," said Madge as she and Peeta walked home from campus. "Why can't they be more like you?" Peeta always remembered to put the seat down. He was tidier than both Katniss and Madge. He used to come over to their place just to clean for them, getting to the places neither of the girls noticed, like under the couch and the hair-clogged shower drain.

"You need to hold a house meeting," said Peeta. "Lay down the law."

"I've tried," said Madge. She kicked a pebble a few feet down the sidewalk. When they reached it, Peeta kicked it a little bit farther. It was a game they'd started playing at the beginning of the semester on the walk home after their evening Queer Lit seminar. They had yet to get the same pebble all the way from campus to Peeta's apartment.

"They don't listen to me," said Madge, taking her turn at the pebble. In her frustration, she kicked too hard, and the rock spun out into the road. "They think I'm over-reacting. I'm going to have to evict them."

Peeta stopped walking. "You'd really do that?" he said. "There's no way they'll be able to find another place to live this time of year."

Madge heaved a sigh. She tugged at the end of her braid. "I don't know what else to do," she said. "Thom's up all night blasting his music. I haven't slept in a month. I failed my last Stats exam and almost missed a recital, because he used my sheet music as toilet paper instead of just going out to buy more. Who does something like that?"

Peeta snorted.

"It's not funny," snapped Madge. "I don't want to put them out, but I can't get anything done with the pair of them goofing off all the time. This is my senior year. I've got enough to deal with."

"Give it another week," said Peeta. "The three of you haven't really had time to adjust. Have you told them everything you're telling me?"

Madge grimaced at her feet. For the most part, she'd just screeched at the boys, which she supposed didn't help much. Peeta was right. They all needed to sit down and have a rational discussion about their living situation.

"They're not bad guys," said Peeta. "They might even surprise you." A little smile flickered at the corner of his lips. Madge gave him a suspicious look. She got the feeling he knew something she didn't, but when she asked what he was on about, he refused to say anymore.

"Let's just say they might be listening to you more than you think," he said.

* * *

Madge waved goodbye to Peeta at his building. She slowed down as she continued on to her own a few blocks away, in no hurry to confront her roommates, and working out word for word what she meant to say to them. _Stay calm. Be reasonable. Compromise._ Easier thought than done. She'd always lived in a quiet and orderly environment. There was nothing quiet or orderly about Thom and Gale. They were her friends. She loved them, but lately, she couldn't look at either of them without wanting to throttle the life out of them. Some people just weren't meant to live together.

She paused in the hall outside of her apartment. For once, she wasn't greeted by the thumping bass of Thom's rock music. It was quiet. Suspiciously so. Afraid of what wreckage she might find inside, Madge slowly opened the door and stepped across the threshold. She gasped at the sight before her, blinked a few times, hardly daring to believe that this was her apartment. Maybe she'd walked into the wrong one, but no, that was her couch, and there was Buttercup sunning himself on the windowsill, and there were Gale and Thom, standing in the middle of the living room and beaming at her.

"Surprise!" they said together.

Madge continued to gape at them for a moment. Then her eyes wandered over the immaculate living room. All of their shoes were lined up neatly on the rack. The hardwood floor practically sparkled, the coffee table had been cleared of beer cans and fast-food wrappers, there was a new bookshelf by the windows and all of her books had been alphabetically arranged. The place smelled like pine and lemons, instead of a musty gym locker.

"Welcome home, honey," said Thom. He was wearing the polka dot apron that Peeta

had given her last Christmas. Madge still hadn't processed what she was seeing, when he grabbed her arm and led her into the kitchen. The leaning tower of crusty dishes was gone, there wasn't a single crumb on the counters, and the table had been set for three, complete with a vase of flowers as the centerpiece. Thom let go of her arm to take a meatloaf out of the oven.

"Well, what do you think?" said Gale, coming up behind her.

Madge rounded on him. She was too stunned to formulate words. After a minute, she managed to force out a strangled, "You...cooked."

Gale tossed back his head and laughed. "We're not that hopeless, Undersee," he said. He put his hands on her shoulders, steered her to the table, and pushed her down into one of the chairs. There were new cushions to replace the stained and threadbare ones she and Katniss had bought from Goodwill two years ago.

"Mellark gave us some tips," admitted Thom as he placed the steaming meatloaf onto the table. "He picked out the new blinds, too."

Madge took another look at the kitchen. She stared at her plate for a moment, at the meatloaf, and mashed potatoes, and the bright yellow daisies. Then she finally turned her eyes back to Thom and Gale, who were towering over her, waiting for her to speak. They looked a bit nervous now.

"I know I've been kind of a dick," said Thom. "I promise I'll try to do better."

"Ditto," said Gale. "We wanted to thank you for giving us a place to stay and..."

Madge burst into tears. Thom wrung the polka dot apron in his hands. "Dude, I think we broke her," he said, casting a sideways glance at Gale.

"Madge?" said Gale. He took a careful step towards her, worried she might attack. "Did we do something wrong? We can get the old blinds back."

Just as suddenly as she'd begun to cry, Madge started to laugh. "We definitely broke her," said Thom. Gale knelt beside her.

"You're freaking me out, Undersee," he said.

"S...s...sorry," said Madge. She picked up her napkin, folded like those in a fancy restaurant, and wiped her eyes. No one had ever done anything like this for her. "It's...It's all so...perfect." She smiled at Gale, and then Thom. As roommates went, despite their combined flaws, she supposed they weren't so bad after all.

"Girls," muttered Thom, rolling his eyes. "I'll never understand your species."

 _Boys_ , thought Madge as Thom and Gale took their seats beside her and loaded up their plates. _My boys_ _._ The meatloaf was a little charred, but she didn't utter a single complaint.


	16. Use Your Words

**AN:** The 1st installment of Madge and Gale's rocky marriage storyline :) Smut, smut, smutty, smut with a touch of serious business.

* * *

 **EARLY THIRTIES**

"You have to tell Gale," said Katniss.

"I tried," said Madge. She let her head flop against the back of the couch and closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to remember last Saturday night. "We didn't do much talking." Last Saturday wasn't the first time they met to blow off steam. Madge knew it wasn't healthy. The whole point of a separation was to be, well, separate. Jo and Annie had forced her out on a couple dates, but she always seemed to end up at Gale's new bachelor pad afterwards. They never did much talking. That was the reason they had separated to begin with.

"Try again," said Katniss. "You have to talk about this."

Madge sighed. It wasn't easy talking to Gale Hawthorne. "Do we really?" she said, looking over at Katniss. "You could tell him for me."

"I won't," said Katniss. "He's _your_ husband."

"Not so much at the moment," said Madge. She didn't know how they had reached this point. So many small things just kept building up over the years. Then there were the big things, too. The fights that became too intense, so they simply stopped talking to avoid them, which left them sniping at each other over stupid things, and somehow everything had fallen apart.

"Will you still go through with the divorce?" said Katniss, somewhat hesitant. She was in an uncomfortable place between her cousin and her best friend. Fortunately, Gale didn't discuss the separation with her...or anyone.

"It's all so much more complicated," said Madge. "I don't know what I want. I don't know what to do." She buried her face in her hands. "I just don't know anymore."

"You'll never figure it out unless you talk to him," said Katniss. "Meet in a public place, somewhere you can't start humping like two hormonal teenagers."

Madge lowered her hands to glare indignantly at her friend. "We do not-"

"Thom's birthday dinner," Katniss cut her off. "Case in point."

Madge blushed, remembering how Peeta had walked in on Gale ramming her from behind in the men's restroom of the classy Italian restaurant they'd all gone to for Thom's 3oth birthday. "Seriously guys, we haven't even ordered yet," Peeta had said, before backing out of the room to let them finish.

"Look, I've known you both for a long time," said Katniss. "There's always been this weird chemical attraction between you, but it's not always positive. You guys have an on-off pattern, only when you're off, you're still on, and you pretend it's casual, but…"

"Go on, Dr. Phil," said Madge. "You can't stop there. But what?"

Katniss looked at her seriously a moment longer. "You and Gale can't be casual. It'll never work. It never does. I think it's time you make a choice. Either all in or all out. Otherwise you'll both be stuck in this godawful cycle til death do you part."

Madge stared at her ring finger. Some days she still wore her wedding band. Some days, like today, she left it in her bedside table. On or off? How the hell was she supposed to decide?

* * *

Taking precautions, Madge wore a turtleneck and sweatpants to Gale's apartment. She washed off her makeup, even though she was embarrassed by the faint lines that had begun to show at the corners of her mouth. She tied her hair back and stuck it under the lumpy wool hat Delly had made for her years ago, which she hadn't worn until today.

When Gale opened the door, he eyed her up and down, before meeting her eyes. "It's sixty degrees out. Why are you dressed for the Arctic?"

"I'm cold," said Madge. Really, she was burning up, sweating under all of her layers. The sight of Gale in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of plaid boxers, with his dark hair messy from his after-work nap, did not help with the heat. She couldn't resist checking him out when he turned around and walked back into the apartment, expecting her to follow, which against her better judgement and carefully laid plans, she did after a moment.

She found him in the kitchen, leaning over into the fridge. "Want a beer?" he said.

"No thanks," said Madge. Gale shrugged as he kicked closed the refrigerator door. She noticed he hadn't taken out a beer for himself, but there were four empty bottles on the counter, and likely more in the living room. She pursed her lips.

"Don't even start," said Gale, seeing where her narrow-eyed gaze had landed. Madge ignored him. She was about to remind him that it was 7 P.M on a Tuesday, but he circumvented the lecture by kissing her open mouth before she finished getting out the first word. Then his warm hands snuck under her layers to grip her hips, then she was sitting on the kitchen table with her legs locked around his waist, empty beer bottles rolling across the floor, then her fingers were knotted in his hair, until he grabbed her arms, raised them higher, and then her sweater was on the floor with the beer bottles, followed by her turtleneck, her tank top, Gale's t-shirt, then they were skin to skin, and holy fuck, it felt so right, she was 100% on right now, and then she remembered why she was here.

"Gale," she said, breathy and trying not to moan as he kissed the sweet spot below her ear, biting and licking and driving her crazy. He knew exactly what to do. He never failed to satisfy in this particular arena of matrimony. It was everything else. "Gale," she said again, trying to come across as more assertive. His hand slid under the elastic of her loose sweats. "I need to...oh."

In no time at all, he'd found her clit through the damp cotton of her underwear. "You need to what?" he said, looking at her now, his lips less than an inch from hers. She needed to kiss him some more, needed more of his skin against hers, needed to fuck him until she forgot about their last fight and how they'd messed everything up.

"What do you need, Madge?" he said again, slipping one long finger inside of her. "This?"

Madge gave up on trying not to moan. She nodded emphatically. Gale flashed that grin which never meant anything good and pulled his hand out from between her legs. "Asshole," she muttered. Gale chuckled. It had been a long time since she heard him laugh and the sound made her feel like the opening credits to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, all gooey and melted chocolate on the inside.

Gale kissed her even harder than before. She squeaked into his mouth when he lifted her from the table, his hands cupping her ass. He broke away from away her lips to see where he was going, but Madge didn't stop. She kissed any bit of him she could reach.

"I'll drop you," he warned, tightening his grip to keep her from wriggling around as

much. She knew he wouldn't drop her. He never had before. The bedroom was too far away, so he dumped her onto the couch. Without further ado, off went her sweat pants, off went his boxers. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the couch, positioned himself between her legs hanging over the armrest, and then he bent over to kiss her again, the pre-penetration kiss, long and slow and deep, and she felt him against her thigh, and she so badly wanted to feel him somewhere else, everywhere else. She hadn't come for this, but oh god, did she want to come, and come again, and again, and…

 _Not again,_ she thought. _We can't do this again._ Gale was guiding himself inside and it practically killed her to say, "Wait, stop!"

Gale froze. "What?" he said.

"We need to talk," said Madge.

The corner of his lips twitched in annoyance. "After," he said. He knew as well as she did that they most certainly would not talk after. Annoyed now as well, Madge scooted away from him. She sat up, crossed her legs, crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now," she said.

"Fucksake, what's so important it can't wait until-"

"I'm pregnant," snapped Madge. Gale took a step back as if he'd been punched in the face. His gray eyes went wide, then narrow, then wide again. She'd meant for there to be more of a build-up, a little cushioning before the blow, but talking to him was too damn hard. Quick and merciless was the only way. Otherwise, she never would have been able to go through it. For a minute, and then five minutes, Gale continued to stare at her. He went through expressions so rapidly, she couldn't keep up and stopped trying to read his thoughts.

After a solid ten minutes, he pulled on his boxers, turned his back to her, and left the room without a single word. A moment later, she heard the front door slam. Madge breathed a sigh of relief. So far, this was going better than she expected.

* * *

Madge gave him an hour to process. He probably needed more. It had taken him weeks to get over the season finale of _The Walking Dead,_ so for coming to grips with the pregnancy of his wife, maybe soon-to-be ex-wife, he needed the full nine months. She couldn't wait that long. An hour was generous enough. When the clock struck 8:13, she went to find him. It didn't take long. He was sitting on the curb right out front of the apartment. Madge stayed standing. For awhile, she watched him smoke. A forest of cigarette butts surrounded his barefeet.

"Thought you quit," she said.

"I did," he said, staring off across the street. The tabby cat in his neighbor's window stared back. "Went out and bought a pack."

"Without your shoes?"

"Store's just around the corner."

Madge scowled at his feet. He could be such an idiot, especially when he was upset. _There's glass everywhere,_ she wanted to tell him. _You could get tetanus. I know you haven't been updated on your shot._ But it wasn't her place to remind him of things like that anymore. It wasn't her place to criticize his drinking, or his smoking, or to tell him that he desperately needed a shave. She let out a long, heavy sigh, and then sat beside him.

Gale glanced at her stomach and put out his cigarette, though it was only half finished. "How far along?" he said.

"Two months."

His fists clenched and she braced herself for the outrage, the whole _why the hell didn't you tell me sooner_ explosion, but it didn't come. "Thought your boobs felt bigger," he said. Madge almost laughed. Then she noticed that his fists were still clenched. Another few minutes of silence passed, before he asked, "How?"

"Well, we were at that Italian restaurant for Thom's birthday and-"

"I know _how_ ," said Gale, rolling his eyes. "I mean...how? We must've seen over a hundred specialists and they all said it wasn't possible."

"Not impossible," said Madge. "Just unlikely." This wasn't her first pregnancy, after all. Gale finally looked at her. He knew where her thoughts were drifting off to. It wasn't his place to comfort her anymore, but reaching for her hand and twining his fingers through hers came as naturally as breathing. He didn't even think about it.

"Don't go there," he said. "Please, not tonight."

They were quiet again. Madge didn't want to let go of his hand, but knew it wasn't her hand to hold. Not anymore. Suddenly, she felt like laughing at the irony of the situation. For three years, they had tried to get pregnant, until they found out that their best shot was an extremely expensive procedure, which they couldn't afford, and which had a very slim success rate. Gale pretended not to care and for awhile he'd kept up the act valiantly. The disappointment caught up to him eventually. For Madge, the guilt became unbearable. They both turned bitter. Their problems went beyond the infertility issue, but it was her inability to give him the big family he'd always wanted that had led to their final showdown.

"Are you keeping it?" said Gale, looking at her again. She ducked her head, unable to bear the faint gleam of hope, but mostly fear, in his eyes. She wasn't the one who had wanted children. She'd tried for his sake, to make him happy, and it had been almost a relief when the doctors told her the odds were against them. But she did want this baby. The circumstances weren't ideal, but this was likely her only chance. It was 97% miracle and 3% cosmic joke.

"Yeah, I am," she said.

"And us?" said Gale. Though she was still staring at the pavement, she heard the tempered smile in his voice. What about them? As much as she wanted to lean into him, let him wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her in, as much as she wanted to enjoy what was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of their marriage, she resisted. A baby wasn't going to solve their problems. If anything, a baby made things even harder. She had to consider what was best for the child. Having divorced parents was better than parents who fought one hour of the day and then gave each each other the silent treatment for the remaining twenty-three.

Madge steeled herself before looking at Gale again. It would be all too easy to tell him to pack his things and move back home. She had to stay strong. She couldn't let those smokey gray eyes cloud her judgement. For the first time, she noticed his t-shirt. It was frayed and faded from years of wash and wear. She remembered buying it for him at the concert they'd gone to for their first official date almost a decade ago. Her heart swelled with reminiscent feelings. Tears pricked behind her eyes. She just barely managed to keep them in check. She'd loved him so much back then. Looking at him now, giving her that impatient _you gonna answer the question or what_ face and wearing that stupid t-shirt, she realized she hadn't really stopped loving him for a single second.

"Nothing's changed between us," she said. Gale's shoulders drooped, so she rushed on. "But I want it to. I want us to be a family."

"So do I," said Gale. His eyes dipped to her stomach again and a small smile flickered across his lips.

"We'll have to talk about things," said Madge, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "Go to counselling and stuff."

Gale groaned. She knew how he felt about shrinks of any sort. All of the times she'd tried to coerce him into seeing a couples' therapist, his response had always been somewhere along the lines of, "I'm not going to pay someone to tell me shit I already know." Except, obviously, neither of them knew enough to save their marriage.

"Alright, I'll do it," he said. Then he took her hand again. His thumb grazed the tan line where her wedding ring was supposed to be. "Not just because of the pregnancy, either. I miss you, Madge. I miss the way we were. I don't...I can't…" He let out another frustrated growl. Why did talking have to be hard? "I'll do anything to make us right again, because I'm miserable without you, more miserable than I was with you during the worst of it."

A few rogue tears escaped down Madge's cheeks. She tried to get rid of them before Gale noticed. Too late. "What'd I do now?" he said, cupping her face in one hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just so scared and so...so…" She felt too much to pinpoint any other emotion besides the nauseating terror and uncertainty.

"I know," said Gale. He leaned in to kiss her forehead. When he pulled back, he didn't go far. His eyes darted to her lips and she tilted her head, a gesture of permission. This kiss was gentle, somewhat unsure, reminding her of their very first in that awful high school English class production of _Romeo and Juliet._ So many kisses between then and now, her heart still raced. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip. Shivering, she broke away.

"If we're going to fix our sinking ship of a marriage, we should probably keep things platonic," she said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we have this habit of using sex in place actual conversation. It hasn't exactly worked out well for us."

"I don't know about that," said Gale, grinning. "Seemed to work out pretty well for you the other night when you came...How many times was it?"

Madge slapped his arm. "I'm serious," she said, grinning back at him despite herself.

"Okay, no sex," said Gale, leaning in again. "Is second base out of the question?"

"Second and first."

"Can we-?"

"No," said Madge. Even as she said the word, though, she found herself leaning in to meet him. "No kissing, no touching, no funny business whatsoever."

"How about one last hurrah, then?" said Gale. She was prepared to shoot down the suggestion, but then he licked his lips and she went all gooey and melted again. They had started talking...so she supposed they both deserved a reward before the truly hard labor began.


	17. Cohabitation

**AN:** Hehehe ;)

* * *

 **SENIOR YEAR (college)**

 **Early June**

Gale's mouth was all over her. Madge arched into him. She breathed him in. She was filled up with him. All five senses overwhelmed by his woodsy scent and his touch, his deep voice and the salt on his skin, and his gloriously toned body pressed against her. He moved inside of her and she writhed in ecstasy. She…

Woke up with his name on her lips and her hand between her legs. His name transformed into a frustrated growl. Instead of guiltily withdrawing her hand out from her soaked panties, as she had the past dozen times this happened, Madge pressed on. So what if it wasn't right to dream about him that way or to touch herself thinking of him and the wonderfully sordid acts he performed in her unconscious fantasies? She'd denied herself this release for weeks now. Not this time, dammit. She was so close, so mercifully close, oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Rise and shine, Morning Glory," said Gale, striding through her bedroom door without knocking. "You're going to be late for…oh."

Madge froze. She realized that sometime in the night her covers had been kicked to the floor amidst all of her writhing. Gale's gray eyes swept over her body, exposed in a very compromising position, and if she hadn't been so mortified by the situation, she might have burst _down there_ just from the hungry expression that flashed across his face. For a second, she almost hoped he would cross the room, fall on top of her, make her dreams come true.

But then he ducked his head. His face turned a darker shade of red than she'd ever seen. "Shit," he muttered. "I'm, uh...I didn't...Carry on." He backed quickly out of the room, stumbling a little over the threshold. As soon as the door closed, Madge rolled onto her stomach, buried her face in her pillow, and let out a muffled scream. _I'm never leaving my room again,_ she thought. How could she? Gale was out there. She could hear him and Thom talking in the living room. Besides the mess and forgetting to put the toilet seat down, there was a much bigger nuisance to living with boys. Well, one boy in particular. She didn't have dirty dreams about Thom. She didn't get all hot and bothered when he came out of the bathroom with just a towel on.

 _Get a grip, Undersee. You and Gale are just friends._ At least they were supposed to be just friends, so what the hell was she doing, getting off to thoughts of him swirling his tongue around her nipples and pulling her hair so hard that tears of pain and pleasure sprang to her eyes? She hadn't thought of any of those things before he moved into her apartment. Okay, so she'd thought of it a little, but had always batted down the mental images, locked them away somewhere deep and dark, but now he was always around, sleeping on the couch in just his boxers, changing with the bathroom door cracked open, giving her sneak peaks of the untouchable.

Madge surfaced from her pillow. She took a few deep breaths and fanned her flushed face until it cooled somewhat. As much as she wanted to stay hidden in her room for all eternity, she knew that wasn't really an option. Gale was right. She was going to be late for class. Madge pulled on her robe, tied it tightly about her waist, grabbed some clothes without looking at her choices, and headed for the door. She paused to take another deep breath, steadying herself, before stepping outside.

Gale stood in the middle of the living room. His eyes lit on her again and he stopped talking mid-sentence. Madge's knees came close to buckling.

"Want some cereal?" said Thom. She ignored him. Ducking her head, so that her hair fell over her flaming cheeks, she scurried to the bathroom without a word to either of the boys.

"What was that all about?" said Thom after the lock clicked behind her.

"Nothing," said Gale. Thom looked at him suspiciously.

"Are you blushing, Hawthorne?"

"I've got to get work," grumbled Gale, before fleeing the apartment. Thom knew very well that he wasn't scheduled to work that day. Not to mention, he'd left his car keys on the coffee table.

"That was weird," he said to Buttercup, the only living creature left in the room with him. The cat glowered back at him through yellow slitted eyes. Then he raised his leg and began licking himself.

* * *

For days, Gale and Madge didn't look directly at each other. They were extra polite, always saying please and thank you, and they never stayed in the same room for long. Their odd behavior didn't go unnoticed by Thom. _Idiots,_ he thought after each of awkward encounters.

On Wednesday, when Madge waltzed into the kitchen, Gale dropped the cup of milk he was holding. The glass shattered on the floor. It was the third broken dish that week. At this rate, they wouldn't have any left by week's end. As usual, Madge retreated from the room like a startled animal, while Gale dropped to his knees to clean up the mess. Enough was enough.

"Oh, just fuck her already," said Thom. Gale's head popped up from the other side of the table.

"What?" he said, looking slightly horrified.

Thom rolled his eyes. "You heard me, Hawthorne. It's obvious you both want to. I swear, I'm going crazy, watching the two of you skirt around each other like high schoolers. I mean, it's not like you haven't done the dirty before."

"We're friends," said Gale. "That's all."

Thom rolled his eyes again. "Oh yeah? You and me are friends, but you don't go as red as a fucking fire truck every time you look at me."

"Shut-up," muttered Gale. He disappeared behind the table again. For the life of him, Thom didn't understand his roommates. It wasn't like Gale to turn all shy and clumsy around a girl. It wasn't like Madge to walk around her own house like an intruder.

"Idiots," he said out loud.

* * *

Madge was hiding in her room, pacing and tugging at her hair and thinking of her latest dream and going completely insane. _Just friends, just friends,_ she told herself over and over. The pipes in the wall groaned when someone turned on the shower. Thom hadn't come home that morning, so she assumed it was Gale. Unable to stop herself, she closed her eyes, imagined the water trickling down his naked body.

She couldn't take it anymore. Her whole body ached with pent-up desire. _Fuck it,_ she thought, surfacing from her room. She strode purposefully to the bathroom, her heart pounding, blood boiling, driven by a want stronger than anything she'd experienced before. In that moment, after weeks of dreaming about him, she didn't care about all of the reasons why this was bad idea. If she didn't have him right now, she was afraid she might literally explode.

Without any kind of plan, other than to throw herself at a wet and soapy Gale Hawthorne, she marched into the bathroom, flung aside the shower curtain, and shrieked bloody murder.

"Hey there," said Thom, smirking back at her, totally unphased.

Madge tried to apologize, but only a squeak came out. She spun around, slid across the slick linoleum, stumbled back out into the living room, and collided face-first into something hard. Strong hands gripped her shoulders. She looked up into Gale's panicked face.

"I heard screaming," he said. "Are you alright?"

Madge still couldn't speak. She gaped at him. This was the closest they'd been in a week. She felt the warmth pouring off of him, muddling her already frenzied brain.

"Fine," she managed to say, before darting around him and returning to the safety of her room.

* * *

Five hours later, Madge still hadn't made a reappearance. Gale flipped through the channels. Every few minutes, his eyes darted to her door. Was she even alive in there? He hadn't heard a single sound come from her room all day.

"I'm going over to Delly's. I won't be back tonight," said Thom. He paused in the doorway and gave Gale a meaningful look. "If Madge ever comes out of her hole, tell her we're even now."

Gale nodded. He didn't expect to see her, though.

* * *

Madge's stomach made a thunderous growl. She hadn't eaten anything today, besides a granola bar for breakfast. It was nearing 2 A.M. She'd heard Thom say that he was going out for the night. Gale was probably asleep by now. Her stomach rumbled again and she decided to risk venturing out from her room. _You can do this,_ she told herself. _The kitchen is less than ten feet away._

She tiptoed across the hardwood floor, pausing only long enough to catch a glimpse of Gale sprawled across the couch. Light from the television flickered across his face. Sure enough, he was asleep. She didn't let herself look at him for long, in case any more stupid ideas leapt into her head. Madge held her breath until she crossed over into the kitchen. She was too afraid to open any of the cabinets, as they had habit of slamming shut, so she swiped Thom's box of Lucky Charms and carefully opened the freezer for the carton of rocky road she'd hidden behind the icebox. A late night dinner of pure sugar. To balance the meal, she went to the pantry to grab an apple.

When she turned around to scurry back to her room, she found Gale leaning against the doorframe, watching her with an amused half-smile. He moved too damn quietly. After two months of living together, she ought to be used to the way he liked to sneak up on her. Then again, ever since the morning he'd walked in on her, they'd done everything in their power to avoid each other as much as two people could who lived together in a tiny studio apartment.

"Good to see you're still alive, Undersee," said Gale. Madge responded with a strange noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Of course, he wasn't, not in late summer when their AC was totally bust. It's not like he was purposefully trying to torment her. Right? _Right?_ She regretted leaving her solitary confinement, but getting back meant getting around him, and she wasn't sure she had the strength not to jump him the second they were within a foot of each other.

Gale's smile fell. He looked at her curiously for an agonizingly long minute. "You know Thom doesn't care about what happened today, right?" he finally said. "He kind of deserved it, considering how many times he's walked in on you. It was just an accident, so there's no reason for you to be so embarrassed about-"

"It wasn't an accident," said Madge. She clamped a hand over her mouth, horrified by her sudden outburst of honesty. Gale's dark brows furrowed together. When he spoke next, his voice was oddly stiff.

"You wanted to see Thom naked?"

"No," said Madge. "God no. I…"

"What?"

"I thought it was you," she admitted, staring down at her feet now.

Gale's eyes went wide. Then a slow smile spread across his lips. "Oh really," he said. Madge wanted to sink into the floor. She also wanted to sink into him. Shame and desire waged war within her pounding heart.

"I'm glad it wasn't you, though," she said, the words tumbling out of her without breaks in between. "Because we're friends, and roommates, and if it had been you, then things would get way too weird, and-"

Gale put an end to her rambling with a surge of uncontrollable laughter. Not only did Madge want to sink through the floor. She wanted to keep sinking until she hit the molten core of the earth. Gathering a shred of courage, she tried to dart past him, but Gale caught her arm.

"Things are already way too weird between us," he said.

"Exactly," said Madge, refusing to look at him. His hand on her arm was enough to send bolts of electricity coursing beneath her skin. Looking into those storm gray eyes would be the death of her. "And we haven't even done anything. I mean, I've just had a few dreams, and already I can't be around you without-"

"What sort of dreams?" said Gale.

Madge cursed herself for letting that little bit slip. Too late to take it back now. Her bright red face was more than enough of an answer to his question. "So the other morning, were you dreaming about me?" he said. Madge made the mistake of looking at him. He was full-on smirking now, an impish gleam in those stormy eyes that made her stomach somersault.

"N...no," she said, ducking her head again. She jerked her arm free of his grip and slipped around him. She didn't make it three steps, before his arms snaked around her waist. Gale pulled her flush against him, so that she could feel his own rapidly beating heart against her back.

"Liar," he said, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "If it's any consolation, I've had plenty dreams involving you. Well, not dreams. More like very conscious and very vivid fantasies."

Madge's breath caught in her throat. She was suddenly glad for his arms around her waist, otherwise she might have melted into a gooey puddle of sheer lust. She had only the smallest thread of reason clinging on for dear life. "Gale," she said, her tone a warning just as much to herself as him.

"Madge," he said. And that was that. All it took to snap her last thread of reason was the husky way he spoke her name. She spun around, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard, like a woman who'd denied herself for far too long.

* * *

Madge was still seeing stars. She stared up at her bedroom ceiling with a dopey grin slapped across her face. Lying next to Gale in her bed, on top of the sheets, both of them completely naked and drenched in sweat (along with other bodily fluids), should have been awkward, but it wasn't, not in the least. In fact, Madge felt more comfortable with him than she had in weeks.

Gale propped up on his elbow to look at her. "Was it as good as you dreamed?" he said.

"Better," said Madge. Gale chuckled. He stole a quick kiss before letting his head fall back against the pillow. They were silent for a while. As the stars began to burn out, Madge's rational brain kicked back into gear.

"So," she said, dragging out the _o._ "What does this mean exactly?"

"Doesn't have to mean anything," said Gale.

"We're still just friends, right?"

Gale propped up again. He studied her in the streetlamp glow coming through the window. Again, Madge thought it should feel weird to have him look at her, thought she should feel the urge to cover up, but she didn't. All of the awkwardness between them seemed to have vanished from that first kiss.

"Friends," said Gale, dancing his fingers up and down her stomach. "With benefits?" he added, quirking an eyebrow in question.

"Most definitely," said Madge. She raised her head to catch his lips. The kiss was just getting heated, when her stomach rumbled a 9.5 on the Richter scale. Gale broke away with another chuckle.

"Go get a shower," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll make us something to eat."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were curled up on the couch, laughing at reruns of old t.v. sitcoms and eating PB&J sandwiches, just like normal.


	18. Assumptions Make an Ass of You and Me

**JUNIOR YEAR (high school)**

Madge stared at her soggy nachos, swimming in a paper tray of garishly orange and congealing cheese. At least it was supposed to be cheese. She wasn't so sure and was unwilling to put it to a taste test. She'd only ordered them for show, to make it appear she had a reason to be sitting here alone at the snack counter. Her date was forty-five minutes late. She checked her phone for the thousandth time. No missed calls. No texts. She finally accepted that she'd been stood up. _So what?_ she thought. _You didn't like him much, anyways._ That didn't lessen the sting, or the embarrassment, or the feelings of worthlessness straining inside of her too tight chest, or the visions of a future of dying alone in a house full of cats.

She couldn't believe she'd let herself get talked into coming to this place...and for nothing. She hated bowling alleys. The stench of strangers' sweat and greasy food churned her stomach. If her date had shown, she wasn't sure she could've actually forced herself to stick her feet into a pair of uncomfortable shoes which had been worn by god only knew how many nasty people before her. Just sitting on one of the beer sticky bar stools was bad enough. She'd probably never wear these jeans again and they were her favorite pair.

Madge slid off of the stool in defeat. There was no point hanging around any longer. If she did, she might drown herself in nacho cheese. She already felt like a soggy, unwanted tortilla chip. Making her way to the exit, she kept her gaze lowered to the speckled carpet, until she walked right into a wall. Well, not an actual wall, but the tall and burly man who steadied her with a firm hand felt like a wall. She found herself looking up into a pair of horribly familiar gray eyes, only they looked back at her with a wholly unfamiliar kindness.

"Careful there, little lady," the man said. It took Madge a moment to recognize the face that went with the eyes. She'd seen him at open houses at school and in her father's old yearbooks. He gave her the same affable smile he'd worn in his class photo of '86. While he and his son had the same eyes, Gale certainly hadn't inherited his smile.

"Sorry, Mr. Hawthorne," she said. "I didn't see you."

"No," said Mr. Hawthorne, "I'd say not. Margaret, isn't it?"

Madge nodded. Of course he knew who she was, too. Everyone did. Being the mayor's daughter in a small town made it impossible to go unrecognized.

"Something on your mind, Margaret?" said Mr. Hawthorne. There was concern in voice.

"Finals are coming up," she said, a lie to explain away her current distraction. Mr. Hawthorne didn't buy it. He'd seen her sitting at the snack bar for the better part of the last hour. Besides, based on what Gale had told him, she didn't need to worry about her exams. "I was just leaving," she said, turning her eyes back to the carpet. "Sorry again."

"Hold on a second," said Mr. Hawthorne. "Why don't you bowl a round with us?"

"Oh, I couldn't intrude, Sir," said Madge. She was both mortified and touched by his offer. Mr. Hawthorne chuckled at her politeness.

"Call me Henry," he said. "And I insist. Nothing better to take your mind off of things, then to knock down a few pins."

Madge made the mistake of looking up at him again. Henry Hawthorne's smile was hard to refuse. It was so warm and inviting. It made her feel a bit less like a soggy tortilla. Before she could stop herself, she said, "Well, alright, maybe just one round, if you really don't mind."

* * *

"Dad's been gone for ages," said Rory, slumped over in one of the hard plastic chairs. "Think that means we can leave soon?"

"No," said Gale. They'd only bowled one game. Retro hour hadn't even started yet. "It's not like you've got some place better to be."

"For your information, there's a party over at-"

Gale cut him short with a _yeah right_ snort. "Like Ma's gonna let you go to a party on a school night."

"You go out on school nights," said Rory.

"Yeah, because I have a car _and_ a driver's license."

"You won't have a car after I tell her you've been sneaking out," said Rory.

"Do that," said Gale, glaring at his brother, "and you won't be able to tell anyone anything ever again once I'm through with you."

Rory glared back at him, but knew better than to make any further threats. "It's not fair," he muttered, sinking further into his seat. "Vick didn't have to come."

"He's got the flu," said Gale with an exaggerated eye-roll. "Just suck it up and stop your whining, alright?"

Gale's father had been bringing him to Livin' On a Spare, the town's only bowling alley, since he was old enough to pick up a two pound ball. As a kid, he couldn't wait for Sunday, but by the time he turned fifteen, the age that Rory was now, he started to resent the tradition. What teenager in their right mind wanted to be stuck with their dad at a cheesey 80's themed bowling night, when they could be out with their friends instead?

Now that he was in his last year of high school, and only had a few months left before going off to college, he'd begun to look forward to bowling with his dad again. He would miss Sunday nights at Livin' on a Spare next year. He was going to miss his dad even more, and though he'd never admit it aloud, he was even going to miss his whiney, pubescent brother.

The Hawthorne boys had made a lot of good memories in this place. A year ago, he couldn't wait to be done with these lame retro nights, but now with the end of an era breathing down the back of his neck, he wasn't ready for it to be over. Rory didn't know how lucky he was to have two more years of this and by the time he realized, it would be too late.

"There he is," said Rory. "Finally."

Smiling, Gale spun around to ask their father if he was ready to get his ass whooped this round. The words died in his throat when he saw who was trailing along behind their father like a lost puppy. His smile turned into scowl that perfectly matched his brother's.

"Look who I bumped into," said Mr. Hawthorne. "Actually, she bumped into me. Hope you boys don't mind, I invited her to join us."

Gale looked from his father, to Madge Undersee, and then back to his father. He was tempted to say that, yes, he did in fact mind, but his father looked back at him with a firm warning etched across his face, so without a word, Gale turned his back on the both of them to start the next game.

* * *

The possibility that Gale would be at the bowling alley with his father hadn't crossed Madge's mind. After all, Livin' On a Spare wasn't the sort of place that the king of punk rock cool would ever be caught dead in. Or so she'd thought, under the assumption that Mr. Hawthorne was here with his younger sons. _You know what they say about assumptions,_ she thought, and the nasty looks Gale shot at her every few seconds certainly made her feel like the biggest ass in the world. She wanted to bolt, but she'd already accepted Mr. Hawthorne's invitation and she didn't want to offend him by leaving now. She just had to suffer through one game. As long as she ignored Gale, it was do-able.

Only ignoring him wasn't easy when he kept looking at her like she'd recently castrated him behind the overflowing dumpsters out back. This night had gone from bad to apocalyptic. To make matters worse, the Hawthornes bowled like professional champions. They each a strike, before her turn came up. Mr. Hawthorne ignored her insistence that she was happy just to watch.

"Nonsense," he said. "We already put your name in."

Madge grimaced, but made her way to the ball chute. She chose the lightest one, which was still heavy enough to drag her right shoulder down a few inches. She tried not to think about all of the germs breeding in the three holes that her fingers currently inhabited or Gale's mutinous eyes boring into the back of her skull, but she failed in both attempts. Wracked with nerves, her hands sweaty and shaking, she dropped the ball before she even reached the line and leapt back with a shriek before it crushed her toes.

Gale let out a cruel bark of laughter behind her and she wished she'd drowned herself in nacho cheese when she had the chance. She was about to bolt, regardless of how rude it was, when Mr. Hawthorne retrieved her ball from the next lane over. "First time?" he said, giving her that warm smile again as he handed over the ball. Mage nodded.

"No worries," said Mr. Hawthorne, glancing back at his oldest son. "You should have seen Gale the first time I brought him here. Gave himself a concussion."

Gale stopped laughing. He wanted to remind his father that he'd only been six at the time, but Mr. Hawthorne was busy showing Madge the proper way to hold the ball. As much as he enjoyed watching her make a fool of herself, it grated on his nerves to see his father share trade family secrets with the mayor's daughter, teaching her as he had his own sons.

Why did she always have to pop up and ruin everything? Sunday nights at the bowling alley were sacred and she had no business being here, laughing at his father's corny jokes. Rory didn't seem to mind. Apparently all it took was a pretty girl to cheer him up. He didn't care that Madge Undersee was stealing all of their father's attention. He was too busy checking her out every time she tottered to the line like a baby deer just learning how to walk.

Between his turns, Gale sulked apart from the rest of them, suddenly feeling like the outsider and growing more irritated by the second. Madge Undersee had everything, a mansion on the hill, fancy clothes, a brand new car, and now she even had his family fawning over her like she was the queen of fucking England. It was one thing to watch the entire faculty bow down to the mayor's daughter at school, but he couldn't tolerate it with his own family, not here, in _their_ place, on _their_ night, one of the last Sunday nights he had to enjoy some quality time with his father. Seriously, didn't she have her own family? What gave her the right to snatch his out from underneath him?

* * *

Halfway through the game, Madge had almost forgotten about Gale, who hadn't made so much as a grunt since her first turn, and was actually enjoying herself with Mr. Hawthorne and Rory. She envied the easy way they interacted with each other, their jovial taunting, and good-humored competitiveness. They were like one of those families on television, too good to be real. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed with her own father or done anything just the two of them. She couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at her, smiled at her, spoken to her the way Mr. Hawthorne did with his sons. In fact, he hardly looked, smiled, or spoke to her at all. Ever since her mother died, he treated her like an open wound, a painful reminder of his losses and failures.

For awhile, she let herself pretend that she was one of the Hawthornes, that she belonged with them, that she was wanted. But then Mr. Hawthorne announced it was time to make a trip to the snack bar. He took Rory, despite the boy's protests, along with him. Left alone with Gale, she was forced back to reality. Clearly, he did not want her around. As soon as his father was out of earshot, he leaned forward and snarled, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Undersee?"

"Bowling," said Madge.

Gale rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be at the country club or something?"

Madge hated the club more than the bowling alley, not that she thought Gale was interested in that bit of self-information. No matter what she said to him, it wouldn't change his opinion of her. He was bound and determined to think of her as nothing more than a rich brat. Whatever. She'd stopped caring about his opinion a long time ago. Let him believe what he wanted. She crossed her arms and stared off towards the snack bar, wishing Rory and Mr. Hawthorne would hurry back, but they were stuck at the end of a long line, creeping to the front at a snail's pace.

Some Madonna song popped and crackled from the ancient overhead speakers. The flashing disco lights and the feel of Gale's dour stare began to make her feel sick again. She was about to step outside for some air (and maybe not return), when suddenly Gale was in the seat beside her.

"For real, what're you even doing here?" he said. Madge carried on purposefully ignoring him. Like always, though, Gale wasn't having it. "Are you writing an article for the school newspaper about how poor people spend their Sunday nights? Or did you just come to lord over everyone, remind us all how much better you are than-?"

"No," snapped Madge, her temper getting the best of her, the way it always did around Gale Hawthorne. Maybe she cared more about his opinion than she let herself admit. In her defense, it was hard not to care when he never wasted an opportunity to broadcast how much he despised her. "For your information," she said, "I came here for a date."

"With who?" said Gale, looking around. "Your imaginary boyfriend?"

Madge turned scarlet. Why had she told him that? Why hadn't she come up with a lie? Why couldn't she just keep her goddamn mouth shut around him? "Just because you hate me, doesn't mean everyone does," she said.

"Where is he, then?" said Gale. She winced. Her cheeks went an even darker shade of red. For the first time, he took in her appearance, nice jeans, fancy blouse that showed just a hint of cleavage, a far cry from the shapeless sweaters she usually wore. So she wasn't lying about the whole date thing, but that didn't explain how she'd ended up crashing his evening, unless…

"Oh, I get it," said Gale. A callous smirk crossed his lips. "Got stood up, didn't you, Undersee?"

"No," she muttered.

"You don't have to lie about it," said Gale. "I mean, I'm sure you're used to this kind of thing. Bet it happens to you all of the time. Really, you should just save yourself the trouble, get a couple of cats, and accept that no guy in their right mind is ever going to want to date a prude like you. Now maybe if you weren't always such an uptight stick in the mud, then-"

Madge leapt to her feet. She couldn't stomach his insults tonight, not when her pride was already at an all-time low. "You've made your point, Hawthorne," she said. Her voice cracked a little. "No one's ever going to want me. No one's ever going to love me. Thanks for the reminder, not that I needed it, because I'm well aware of those facts." She met his gaze and, for a second, Gale worried she was about to burst into tears. Instead she ducked down to grab her purse from under the chair he was sitting in, straightened up, and said, "Sorry for ruining your evening," before spinning around, her ponytail whipping at the air.

Gale watched her march through the exit doors without stopping at the desk to return her rental shoes. As soon as she disappeared, he dropped his head to his knees and didn't resurface until his father and Rory returned.

"Where's Madge?" said Rory, holding the styrofoam cup of Cola he'd brought for her.

"She left," said Gale.

"What did you say to her?" demanded Rory, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing," said Gale, ignoring the searching look his father was giving him. All too late, he realized that Madge Undersee hadn't ruined his night. He'd done that to himself. "I'm done bowling. Meet you guys outside." He picked up Madge's left behind shoes, hoping to catch her in the parking lot, and fled the accusatory stares of Rory and his father.

Madge was long gone. He stood in the parking lot, in the Sunday twilight, holding one of her shoes in each hand, and wondering why he always had to take things too far.

* * *

The drive home from Livin' On a Spare was tense and quiet. When they pulled up to the house, Mr. Hawthorne sent Rory inside. Without needing to be told, Gale knew he wasn't excused. For awhile, his father gazed thoughtfully through the windshield.

"Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?" he finally said. He didn't sound angry, didn't raise his voice. He rarely ever did. If only he'd just yell for once, then Gale might feel compelled to defend himself. As it was, confronted by his father's calm disappointment, he felt a fresh surge of guilt for how he'd behaved at the bowling alley.

"You know I don't like her," he muttered. "Besides, bowling night is our thing. You never let us bring friends, and then you go off and invite Undersee. It's not fair." He was painfully aware that he sounded exactly like Rory, whiny and petulant.

"This isn't about Margaret, is it?" said Mr. Hawthorne. Gale glowered at the floorboard. He didn't answer. He didn't need to. His father knew him through and through. No, none of this was about Madge Undersee. Not really.

"Gale, listen to me," said Mr. Hawthorne. He placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "It's okay to be afraid. You're leaving in a few months and, trust me, I'm scared too. I've been dreading this moment since the day you were born, but I also know that you're going to be just fine."

Gale sighed. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he really didn't want his father to see him cry. _I'm eighteen years old,_ he told himself, _not a baby._ Logically, he knew his father was right, he knew he was being silly, but he couldn't fight down this stubborn sense that the safe and familiar world he'd always lived in was slipping through his fingers, though he wasn't ready to let go yet.

"Me, your mom, and the boys will only be a few hours away. We're your family. No amount of distance will ever change that," said Mr. Hawthorne. He gave Gale's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "There will always be more Sunday nights and I will always be your father. I'll always be there when you need me."

"I know," said Gale. He turned his face away to wipe his damp eyes on his sleeve. "I'm sorry for being such a jerk tonight. I just got…"

"Jealous," his father finished for him. He was quiet again for another minute. Then, speaking softly, he continued. "Her mother passed away a few years ago. Did you know that?"

Gale looked to his father in surprise. No, he hadn't known about Madge's mother. How was that possible? Everything that went on in the mayor's life was splashed across the front page of the weekly news. Surely he would've remembered seeing a headline about Mrs. Undersee's death.

Mr. Hawthorne read his son's confusion. "The mayor kept it pretty hush hush. There were some delicate matters involved."

Gale wanted to know more about these _delicate matters,_ but his father's grave expression made clear that he wouldn't say anymore about them. "Mr. Undersee is a good man, a good mayor, but the loss hit him harder than he lets on. We talk on the phone sometimes, you know, and he never talks about her, even though we all went to school together. I think he does everything in his power to forget she ever existed. Can you imagine what that must be like for Margaret? She doesn't have any siblings to talk to. According to you, she doesn't have many close friends, either."

 _Because she hardly talks to anyone,_ Gale almost said, _because she's stuck-up, and cold, and...and..._ And maybe she was just sad. He couldn't imagine what it would it feel like to lose a parent, to be all alone in the world, and he didn't want to. He remembered the way she'd laughed with Rory and his father, how she'd observed them like they were the strangest and most wonderful people she had ever come across, and how he'd been so blinded by his own anxieties to notice that he'd never seen her look so relaxed.

"You don't have to like her, even though I think you might if you gave her half a chance," said Mr. Hawthorne. "Just don't let your prejudices make you into something you're not. That boy I saw at the bowling alley, that's not the boy I know. It's not the boy I raised. A little compassion goes a long way."

"I'm sorry," said Gale for a second time.

"I'm not the one you owe an apology to," said Mr. Hawthorne. He gave Gale's shoulder another squeeze, before climbing out of the car. Gale didn't follow. He stayed where he was for a long time, thinking about how lucky he was to have two parents who loved him, two brothers to drive him crazy, and a baby sister to remind him that the world wasn't as hopeless as it seemed sometimes. He had a family that would always be there to support him, no matter how much distance came between them. What did Madge Undersee have? A nice house, nice clothes, a brand new car, a bunch of stuff, nothing that mattered.

 _No one's ever going to want me. No one's ever going to love me._ Those words took on a whole new meaning. Sitting alone in the dark, with her shoes in his lap, he got a sinking suspicion in his guilt twisted gut that she hadn't been talking about some stupid boy who'd stood her up.

* * *

The next day dawned gray and cloudy, the perfect weather to go with Madge's downcast mood. Her eyes were still dry and itchy from crying herself to sleep the night before. Usually, she'd rather be at school than at home, but today she just wanted to hurry back to bed, hide under the covers until last night faded from memory.

When Madge reached her locker, she was startled from the dreary fog weighing her down by a little slip of notebook paper stuck in the air slot. She glanced down the hall, first left and then right, in search of a familiar face. Delly, the only person who ever left her notes, was still visiting family out of state. She caught a glimpse of Gale, leaning against his own locker a few feet away and chatting with Thom, before turning her attention once more to the mysterious note. She slipped it out of the slot, carefully unfolded the crinkled paper, and read, expecting the worst. Perhaps a message from her no-show date about how he'd decided she was too pathetic to have anything to do with.

She had to read the note three times, before she believed it was real. _The guy who stood you up is a Grade A asshole. So am I. Sorry about last night, Undersee._ Madge looked to Gale's locker again and found him watching her, almost nervously. She wanted to turn her back on him, let him stew in guilt, like he deserved, but her body acted against her wishes. She gave him a nod instead, the slightest indication of forgiveness. Gale Hawthorne was most definitely an asshole, but at least he was willing to admit when he'd gone too far.

The warning bell sounded. Gale swung his bookbag over his shoulder and headed off for class. Madge read his note one more time. Despite herself, a blush crept into her cheeks at the last messily scrawled line. _P.S. Speaking of Grade A asses, you should wear those jeans more often._

"Jerk," she muttered to herself, smiling just a little as she balled up the note and tossed it into the cluttered depths of her locker.

* * *

 **AN:** Just a little clarification, there's still an age difference between Gale and Madge in this AU, so all of the timeline headings follow whatever year Madge is in. He is two years older, but only one grade ahead (the reason will be briefly explained in another high school chapter I've been working on for like two months, but it's really not all that important).


	19. Ecstasy

**AN:** Kids, don't do drugs. Or do...but responsibly, with a trip-sitter, and yada, yada :)

* * *

 **SOPHOMORE YEAR (college)**

 **January**

Madge regretted giving Johanna permission to give her a make-over. "We're going to a rave, not Sunday School," Jo had said the moment she saw Madge's knee-length skirt and brown loafers. Then she'd left, returning ten minutes later with an armful of skimpy clothes and a can of hairspray tucked under her arm.

"I look like a hooker," said Madge, inspecting Johanna's handiwork in the full length mirror. She tugged at the shredded, black tights she'd been forced into. When she tried to take a step back, she wobbled on a pair of 6-inch stilettos. The heavy false lashes, practically blinding her, didn't help with her balance issues.

"You look hot," said Jo.

"I can't go out like this," said Madge. "I don't even recognize myself."

"Isn't that the whole point of tonight?"

Madge pursed her hooker red lips. She tried to cover her belly button with the lacy tank top Jo had loaned her.

"Chill out, Undersee," said Jo. "Would you rather stay in and sob over _Pride and Prejudice_ for the billionth time?"

Madge flopped onto her bed and buried her face in her hands. She was the one who'd asked Johanna to take her out. After all, there was no one better at partying away all of their problems. Now that the moment had come, however, she was riddled with doubt. Where was Katniss to tell her what a horrible idea this was? Oh yeah, she was off somewhere making goo-goo eyes at Peeta. Just thinking of the two of them, oblivious to the rest of the world in the puppy dog days of their relationship, made her want to puke. She remembered those blissful early weeks with Finnick.

"No crying," said Jo. "I worked too hard on that make-up for you to ruin it. Now get off your ass and let's go."

"Go without me," said Madge. She wasn't ready to venture out into the world again. What if she ran into Finnick? What if he was with Annie? She'd spotted them together on the quad yesterday, holding hands under the tree where Madge used to meet him between class, and the sight had nearly killed her. Until then, it hadn't fully hit that they were over, finished, no going back, one hundred percent ancient history.

"Enough is enough," said Jo. "I can't watch you mope around anymore. He broke up with you. So what? It's not the end of the fucking world. He's just a guy. Plenty more where he came from."

Just a sweet, and caring, and funny, and beautiful, and smart, and all-around perfect guy. Just the first guy she'd ever been serious about. She didn't want another. Jo heaved a sigh. She dug around in her purse for a minute, before pulling out a plastic baggie of colorful pills.

"Here," she said, holding out two of the pills. "Take these. I was saving them for a concert next week, but you need a pick-me-up now."

"What are they?" said Madge.

"The solution to all of your problems."

Madge took the pills. She rolled them around in her palm. Knowing Johanna, they were probably highly dangerous and highly illegal.

"Do you want to forget about him or not?" said Jo, hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched high. Madge did want to forget. More than anything. She felt a sudden rush, the dizzying desire to do something impulsive for once, to live on the edge, jump off of a cliff, be carefree, and fun, and happy. She took a deep breath and tossed back the mystery pills. Johanna beamed at her.

"Good girl," she said, giving Madge a thump on the back. "Let the games begin."

 _What have I gotten myself into?_ thought Madge as Johanna pulled her to her feet.

* * *

Heaven. Euphoria. A higher plane of existence. That's what Madge had gotten herself into. She gazed in wonder at the technicolor light swirling across her outstretched hands. Or were they someone else's hands? She couldn't tell where her body ended and the rest of the world began. Her senses were amplified by a thousand. Not only did she hear the music. She smelled it, tasted it, felt it dripping from her pores like sweat.

Her hands were clasped with Johanna's and they were spinning fast in the middle of a crowded basement, and then Jo was gone, but she didn't care. She stumbled and a girl with electric blue hair kept her from falling. "You've got stars on your face," shouted Madge over the music. The girl tossed back her head and let out the most beautiful laugh in the world. She didn't really have stars on her face. It was just glitter, but to Madge, she looked like a constellation. Then the girl was gone, too, and a boy from her Anthropology class was handing her a beer. She didn't usually like beer, but right now, the stuff tasted like chocolate, and sunshine, and Christmas all in one.

Madge was more alive than ever. Strangers came, they went, and she admired them all. She was a fluid part of everything. She was spinning again, and the world was spinning with her, and she didn't know where she was, but it didn't matter, because the air sizzled with love, and nothing could hurt her, because she was water, roaring in her own ears, and slipping through fingers, until someone caught her around the waist. It was the girl with the electric blue hair. Their lips were less than an inch apart and, wondering what a constellation tasted like, Madge kissed her.

* * *

"Holy shit, is that Undersee?" said Thom.

Gale turned his head in the direction of Thom's dumbstruck gaze and did a spit-take on his beer. Lo and behold, there was Madge Undersee, at an underground rave of all places, swapping tongue with...another girl. He blinked a few times, certain that the technicolor lights were playing tricks on his vision. He'd had dreams like this, but never, not once, did he imagine they might come true.

"It is her! Look, there's Jo, too." said Thom, waving her over. She spotted them, grinned, and began battling her way through the mob.

"Evening boys," she said. Thom, wasted before they even got here, threw an arm over her shoulders and planted a sloppy, wet kiss to her flushed cheek. Johanna shoved him off. She looked to Gale, who was still watching Madge in shocked disbelief. Unlike his friend, he was still relatively sober. At least, he'd thought he was. Maybe not. Maybe someone had slipped something into his drink. That seemed the only explanation for what he was currently witnessing.

"Thank god," said Johanna. "About time Miss Mayor had a little fun."

Gale's eyes whipped from Madge to Jo. "Is that really happening?" he said.

"Yup," said Jo, popping the _p_. There was something about her grin, the devilish gleam in her eyes, that started off a clash of alarm bells in his head.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Jo said with a shrug. Gale narrowed his eyes. Like hell nothing. In his experience, whenever the impossible occurred, Johanna Mason was usually the cause.

"Alright, alright," said Jo, lifting her hands in surrender. "I may have given her a little something to help loosen her up."

"Got anymore?" said Thom. Gale elbowed him in the ribs. Everyone knew better than to take anything offered by Jo, unless they wanted to wake up naked in the provost's office (which had only happened to him that one time freshman year, the last time he went for a ride on Mason's magical, mystery bus).

"Are you insane?" he said, still glaring at Jo. "Undersee doesn't even smoke weed. There's no way she can handle whatever crap you gave her."

"Didn't know you were her goddamn dad, Hawthorne," said Johanna. "She's fine. I'm watching out for her."

Gale wasn't reassured in the least. "Katniss is going to kill you," he grumbled. Then he looked back to Madge, working her way to second base right there on the dance floor. Despite his worries, he couldn't deny that the show was incredibly hot, nor could he tear his eyes away again.

* * *

As Gale had anticipated, Johanna soon disappeared. She was probably getting it on in the backseat of some random dude's car. He'd lost track of Thom as well, but he wasn't concerned. The two of them were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Undersee, however, was a different story.

Gale refused to let her out of his sight for a second. He followed her around the room at a careful distance, feeling a bit like a creep, though his intentions were purely honorable. _Undersee is not your responsibility_ , he kept telling himself. They weren't friends. Not really. Were they? No, she was just Katniss' roommate. So what if he got a little panicky every time he lost sight of her even for a split second? It was only because he knew if anything happened to Undersee, then Katniss would be devastated. That's all. Wasn't it? _It's not like I care about her or anything. Do I?_

Gale had come out tonight with every intention of not going home alone. Yet here he was, cold stone sober, completely alone, stalking Madge Undersee like some kind of guard dog. It was ridiculous, not his job, not his problem. Jo was was right. She was fine, really fine, so why couldn't he just enjoy the party? Why did it bother him so much whenever someone got a little too close to her? He swore not to intervene. After all, she did appear to be having fun, and she deserved it. He knew from Katniss how hard the whole break-up with Finnick Odair had hit her. Not that any of that was his business either.

Gale couldn't help but smile at her odd, little dance. She didn't pop, lock, and shimmy like the other girls. Instead she was doing these silly ballet twirls. He laughed when her windmilling arms struck the dread-headed dude currently trying to groove up behind her. Unintentionally, she managed to defend herself without any outside intervention. Gale relaxed. He let himself enjoy the show. This carefree, uninhibited, high as a kite version of Undersee was highly amusing and rather...cute. She was like a little kid, taking everything in with those wide, blue eyes, moving without an ounce of shame, smiling from ear to ear. He couldn't really explain it, but for some reason, seeing her this happy made him happy.

Then someone knocked into him. His eyes left Madge for less than a second, but when he looked back to where she'd been, she was gone. Frantically, Gale searched the crowd for a flash of blonde. By the time he found her again, she wasn't alone anymore. A broad-shouldered boy with close-cropped hair was leading her by the arm to the nearest exit. Gale recognized the boy in an instant and his chest went tight with renewed panic. Just before they slipped out the door, Cato glanced back to flash one of his friend's a lecherous smile. He winked, snaked his arm around Madge's waist, and ushered her through the door. Cato was a shark with a nasty reputation, but Madge Undersee would not be his latest chew toy. _Not on my watch,_ thought Gale, already on the move.

* * *

Madge was grateful for the fresh air. She took a deep breath. Everything smelled so wonderful, even the heavy exhaust fumes of the city and the fishy waft from the 24 hour sushi joint around the corner.

"Thanks," she said to the boy from her Anthropology class. What was his name again? Carlos? Canton? No, that was a city in Ohio. Cato, yes, that was it. Odd name. Vaguely, she remembered that she hadn't always liked Cato, but right now she liked everyone. More than that, she loved everyone. People were such lovely creatures.

"No problem," said Cato. "It's too crowded in there. Thought we could use some privacy." He leaned into her, his hands pressed against the brick wall on either side of her head, and Madge thought it was very kind of him to shield her from the brisk wind. Then he leaned in even closer and she felt the faintest flicker that something wasn't quite right, but she was so happy, and everything was so perfect, and she wasn't sure why her pulse had quickened, or why a very small voice in the back of her head was telling her to run, run fast, run now.

Suddenly Cato (Tornado, Tomato, Carl?) was kissing her roughly and one hand gripped the back of her neck, while the other slipped under her skirt, and it felt nice, sort of, but also frightening, and she wasn't sure what was happening, or how to stop it, or if she wanted to, and this disorientation was not so nice at all anymore. Her thoughts began to tailspin. Trying to steady herself, she clutched at his jacket, which he seemed to take as an invitation to plunge his tongue deeper into her mouth, and she couldn't breathe, and she definitely wanted this stop now, but couldn't quite make her body do what her brain was telling it to.

* * *

The moment Gale stepped outside and saw Cato, mauling Undersee like a rabid bear, the whole world turned a furious shade of red. He caught a fistful of Cato's jacket and yanked with all his might.

"Beat it," snapped Cato, spinning around. "I got here first."

"And now you can leave first," said Gale, fists clenched at his sides.

"Seriously, go find your own tail, Hawthorne," said Cato. He flashed that lecherous grin again. "Unless you want to wait around for my sloppy seconds."

Gale inhaled through his nose, counted to three, and then let his lungs deflate. He didn't particularly want to get into a fight tonight, because as pissed as he was right now, he was very close to committing murder. No one talked about the mayor's daughter like that. Not even him. "I'll give you one more chance to get lost," he said, voice strained, jaw clenched to breaking point. "It's a generous offer and I guarantee that if you decide not to take it, I'll crack your skull wide open on that wall right there."

Cato glared back at him for a moment. Then he glanced at Madge, gave a jerky shrug, and muttered, "She's not worth it," before walking away. Gale kept an eye on him until he slunk through the basement door, and then he turned immediately to Madge. She was leaning against the wall, pale shock slapped across her face, blue eyes dazed, lips swollen, the fading imprint of a hand around her neck.

"Undersee, you alright?" said Gale, taking a tentative step towards her. Her eyes snapped to his face. In an instant, her shock transformed into a blinding smile, like she'd never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life. It was not a smile he'd ever thought to receive from her.

"Gale!" she cried, throwing herself at him, nearly choking him as she flung her arms around his neck. "Gale, Gale, Gale," she said, repeating his name in a sing-song tone. It was a much better name than Cato (Radio, Sweet Potato, whatever).

"Yeah, that's my name," said Gale, freeing himself from her death grip. "Don't wear it out, Undersee." He kept his hands on her shoulders, looking her up and down, double-checking that Cato hadn't caused any lasting damage. She seemed fine. She was still giving him a goofy smile. Her pupils were fucking huge. Gale let go of her shoulders to take her hand.

"Come on," he said, leading her away from electronic noise spilling out of the basement.

"Where are we going?" said Madge, practically skipping along beside him. Jesus Christ, she was ridiculous and she was going to break an ankle in those high-rise heels if she wasn't careful.

"I'm taking you home," he said. Madge pouted at him. "Don't give me that face, Undersee. You'll thank me tomorrow."

* * *

Madge leaned further out the window, relishing in the way the wind licked her face, like a million kitten tongues. If she closed her eyes, she was on a boat in the middle of the ocean, or a shuttle shooting at lightspeed into the starry sky, or riding on a hurricane. Gale took one hand off the wheel to pull her back inside the truck, before she fell out onto highway. He hadn't saved her from Cato, just so she could end up as roadkill. He buckled her seatbelt for the fifth time.

"Don't take it off again," he said. Madge tugged at the strap across her chest. She hated how confining it was. Since she couldn't lean out the window, she occupied herself by stroking the worn leather of her seat. She traced the rough seam stitching like it was a priceless tapestry. That's what it felt like. Inch by inch, her hand wandered closer to Gale, curious to find if the denim of his jeans felt the same.

Gale pressed down on the gas pedal when her fingertips grazed his thigh. "Hands to yourself, Undersee," he said, letting up on the gas before he rammed the car in front of them. Madge slumped against the door and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm hungry," she said. Gale stole a glance at her. She was pouting again, bored, reminding him of Posy on long car trips, and just like with Posy, it probably wasn't a bad idea to get some food into her, so he turned off at the next exit.

* * *

Madge squinted at the drive-thru menu. Every time he thought she was finished with her order, she added something else.

"Oh, and a large fry."

"A large fry," Gale repeated to the speaker.

"And a strawberry milkshake."

"And a strawberry milkshake." He turned to look at her. "Is that it?"

Madge nodded. He'd just turned back around, when she started tugging on his sleeve. "Can I get two fries?"

"Make that two large fries," said Gale. Then to Madge, "You better eat all of this." It didn't escape his notice that he sounded exactly like his mother.

* * *

Food had never tasted so good. Madge savored each bite. She moaned into her cheeseburger, sighed with every sip of milkshake, and sucked the salt from her fries like they were lollipops. They were parked in the campus lot and Gale was waiting for her to finish. He tried not stare, but there wasn't much else to do besides watch her eat. Somehow, the scene was equal parts hilarious and a major turn-on. Who knew fast-food could be so erotic? Madge took another bite of cheeseburger and her eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy.

"Want me to give you a minute alone with that burger?" said Gale.

"Ish shoo gwoooood," said Madge, moaning again. The ketchup smeared across her chin nicely complemented her mascara smudged eyes. He burst into laughter. If only he had a camera, because this particular look of Madge Undersee's was one he never wanted to forget.

* * *

They were almost to Madge's room when she stopped dead in the middle of the hall. "My keys," she said.

"What about them?"

"I don't have any. I was supposed to crash with Jo. Oh no, Jo! We left her. How's she going to-?"

"Easy there, Undersee," said Gale. He wasn't worried about Johanna finding her way home. She always did...eventually. He grabbed Madge's arm and tried to make her keep walking, but she refused to budge. "I'm sure Katniss is home," he said. "She'll let you in."

"Nope," said Madge, shaking her head. "She's with Peeta."

Gale let go of her arm. _That_ did cause something of a problem. He rubbed the back of his neck while contemplating what the hell he was supposed to do with her now. He could always take her to the common room. The couches weren't all that comfortable, but they were a step up from sleeping on the floor outside of her dorm. The common rooms were frigid, too, and she was already shivering, which wasn't surprising given that she was dressed for July instead of January. Besides, the idea of dumping her in a public place, when she was still flying high, didn't settle well with him.

"Alright," said Gale. "You can crash in my room."

"Really?" said Madge.

"Yeah, really, Undersee," said Gale, taking her arm again. _Not like I've got much of a choice,_ he added silently.

* * *

Of course, it wasn't true that he didn't have a choice. He'd been given a lot of choices tonight and each of his decisions had led him here, to Madge Undersee sprawled across his bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his wool socks, and nothing else. His plans of not going home alone hadn't turned out exactly according to plan. For a long time, they just stared at each other. Gale lingered by the door, unsure what to do next, and more than a little disconcerted by the way she was studying him like he was a set of algebra flashcards. He looked away first and busied himself rolling out the sleeping bag he kept under his bed.

"You're a fish," said Madge.

"What?"

Madge crawled to the edge of the bed to gaze down at him, kneeling on the floor. Her expression was comically serious, head tilted to the side, raccoon eyes weighty with deep thought, but her words made no sense at all. "A fish," she repeated. "You know, like there are plenty of the fish in the sea? You're one of them."

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Undersee," said Gale. He reached up to flip off the lamp and then burrowed down into the sleeping bag. "Just go to sleep. You can go fishing, or whatever, tomorrow."

Madge's head dangled over the side of the bed. He swatted at her hair, tickling his nose, and wished she'd just pass out already. He closed his eyes, tried to ignore the prick of her gaze. "Stop staring at me," he grumbled, cracking open his eyes again to find her face hovering just above his.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor," she said. "I trust you enough to share a bed for one night."

Gale rolled over onto his side, putting his back to her. Frankly, he didn't trust her. Not with god (and Johanna Mason) only knew how much ecstasy coursing through her bloodstream. And she was definitely on ecstasy. It didn't take a genius to work that out, not after watching her make-out with half a dozen strangers, male and female, at the rave, and basically orgasm over a couple of a french fries.

For awhile, he tossed and turned on the floor, trying and failing to find a comfortable position, painfully aware that she was still staring at him. It was one thing to sleep on the ground when you were camping, but something about having a mattress, even a hard and thin dorm mattress, less than a foot away, amplified the discomfort. He could make her take the sleeping bag. It was _his_ bed, after all. He was doing _her_ the favor by letting her sleep in his room to begin with.

"Honestly," said Madge. "Stop being so stupid. It's not like you've never shared a bed with a girl before."

 _Half true,_ thought Gale, flipping onto his back again. But usually he and the girl didn't do any sleeping. In fact, the only girl he'd ever shared a bed with for the whole night was Katniss, and she was his cousin, so she might as well not even be a girl. He squinted up at Madge, trying to work out what exactly she was to him. Over the past semester, he'd reluctantly come to terms with the fact that he didn't actually hate her, as he'd always told himself he did. Sometimes, dare he admit, he even liked her. She was a part of home, not necessarily his favorite part, but familiar, almost comforting. On the other hand, his feelings towards her, all tangled and confusing and best not to dwell on, were not always very familial.

Getting a headache, like he always did when he thought too hard about what they were to each other, Gale let his already aching back make the decision for him. "Remember, hands to yourself, Undersee," he said, before joining her on the bed. There was barely enough room for one person, let alone two. Physical contact was unavoidable. He created as much space as possible.

However, within ten minutes, Madge had snuggled up against him. There was nowhere else for him to go without toppling back onto the floor. Within another five minutes, she was rubbing her feet against his legs, nuding her icy nose into his shoulder, stroking his arm, tightly folded across his chest. _Just ignore it,_ he told himself. _Ignore it. Ignore..._ Her hand slipped down to his stomach. Impossible to ignore.

"Undersee," he growled, shoving her towards the wall. "Don't think I won't kick you out."

"Sorry," said Madge, giggling in his ear. The sound affected him way more than it reasonably should have. "You just feel really nice."

Gale rolled his eyes at the ceiling. She'd probably say the same about a cactus right about now. Irritating as it was, he couldn't blame her. The last time he took an ecstasy trip (with Johanna Mason nonetheless), he'd spent a good hour feeling up a tree on the quad. Tomorrow morning, he was going to have a wonderful time torturing her over this moment, assuming he survived the night.

Gale uncrossed his arms to give her another shove. "Roll over," he said.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Madge shifted onto her other side. Her face pressed against the wall, which felt nice too, but not half as nice as Gale. She was about to complain about this new position, when she felt the faintest whisper of touch, as Gale began to trace undecipherable designs onto her back with his fingertips. It was wonderful in a soothing, entirely non-sexual way. She sank into childhood, remembering the game she used to play with her mother, guessing at pictures they drew on each others bodies. An elephant, letters in the alphabet, castles with spindly turrets.

Gale was just grateful that she'd stopped wriggling around. He thought she'd finally fallen asleep, when her voice, muffled by the wall, broke through the darkness. "Gale?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'll ever catch another fish? Now that I've lost Finnick?"

Gale smothered a laugh in the pillow. So that's what she'd been on about earlier? The old _plenty of fish in the sea_ cliche. It'd been a long night. He was tired, infected by her silliness, so he answered with first words that came to him. "Yeah, Madge, you'll catch another fish. They were all lining up to take your bait tonight."

"That sounds dirty," she said, giggling again.

"It was supposed to," said Gale. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

His hand at her back moved slower, circles becoming lazy, as he drifted off. Then, "Gale?"

"What?"

"You called me Madge."

"Well, it is your name."

"Yeah, but-"

Gale snuck his arm under her head and clamped his hand over her mouth. "No more talking," he said. "Sleep." She mumbled something against his palm, but this time, he managed to ignore her.

* * *

Madge woke with her face smushed against the wall, which was odd, considering her bed wasn't against the wall. She rolled over, pried open her eyes, and found Gale Hawthorne, leaning back in his desk chair across the room, hands folded behind his head, grinning at her.

"It's alive," he said. Madge sat up too fast. The room spun for a moment. A dull ache pounded between her temples. Snippets of last night washed over her. Horrified, she realized she was in Gale's room, in Gale's bed, and she wasn't wearing any pants.

"We didn't...I mean, you and me, we didn't…" She couldn't bring herself to ask the dreaded question. Did she even really want to know?

Gale's grin stretched wide. "You don't remember anything?" he said.

"Bits and pieces," she said, wincing. She remembered making out with the blue-haired girl and a few other people whose faces were a blur. She remembered the music, and dancing, and though she didn't particularly remember eating anything, there was the faintest trace of strawberry milkshake, almost masked by a sour taste, on her fuzzy tongue.

Gale couldn't resist messing with her. The opportunity was just too good. "That's a shame," he said, leaning towards her. "It was a magical night. Didn't know you were so bendy."

Madge hid her flaming face behind her hands. "Oh god," she groaned. 'Oh god, oh god, oh god." When Gale began to laugh, she dared to peek at him through her fingers.

"I'm messing with you, Undersee," he said. "Even if I was interested, which I'm not, you were way too fucked up last night. Seriously, what kind of guy do you think I am?"

Madge still wasn't sure why she didn't have on any pants, or how she'd ended up here, but she believed he was telling the truth. Gale Hawthorne was a slut, sure, but an honorable one. Slowly, she lowered her hands from her face. Gale was standing in front of her now, holding out a glass of water.

"You should drink something," he said after a minute, when she hadn't moved to take the glass. "It'll help with the headache."

She gulped down the water, while he returned to the desk. Once the glass was empty, she set it down on the bedside table and, eager to get the hell out of here, said, "Mind giving me a second of privacy?"

"So modest all of a sudden," said Gale, closing his eyes all the same, so she could crawl out from under the covers and slip into her skirt (Jo's skirt), discarded on the floor. "Last night, you couldn't keep your hands off of me."

Another groan welled up from her throat. Now that he mentioned it, she remembered _that_ too. While his eyes were still closed, she tiptoed to the door, hoping to sneak out, when a sharp flash of memory stopped her, a memory so vivid that she thought she was back at the underground club, trapped against the wall, Cato's sticky mouth bruising against her own, and then Gale's deadly gray glare aimed at someone other than her for once. Admittedly, he had never looked at her with nearly as much venom as he'd looked at Cato.

"Thank you," she blurted. Gale opened his eyes, brow furrowed in mild confusion. "For looking out for me last night," she added.

Gale ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. He looked past her. "Yeah, well, Katniss would never forgive me if I'd let you get into any serious trouble."

"Thanks anyways," she said, before fleeing the room. As soon as her footsteps faded down the hall, Gale picked up his wrinkled shirt, the one he'd let her borrow, which she'd left folded at the foot of the bed. He brought up to his face and inhaled. Smelled like Undersee. Then, realizing what he was doing, he tossed the shirt into his hamper. Contrary to what he'd told her, and what he'd told himself all of last night, he hadn't looked after her for Katniss' sake. Whatever Madge Undersee was to him, he couldn't deny anymore that he kind of, sorta, genuinely cared about her.


	20. All I Need

EARLY TWENTIES

The thrum of heavy rain against the window roused Madge long before the alarm was set to go off. Though she and Gale had gone to bed late, after another argument over wedding expenses, she was too on edge to fall back asleep. For an hour or so, she observed her dozing boyfriend. _Fiancee,_ she reminded herself. She usually woke up earlier than him and it had become a cherished part of her morning routine to watch him sleep. He didn't like it so much, told her she was a weirdo, but she knew he did the same thing on those rare occasions when he woke first.

This morning he slept on the far side of the bed, with his back turned to her, as if he were still angry, though they'd made up. The argument was stupid and yet they kept having it, slinging the same words at each other ( _It's our wedding, not your father's_ said Gale, _I know that_ said Madge, _How much does he plan on spending?_ said Gale, _I don't know_ said Madge) like they were rehearsing dialogue for a play. The denouement never changed ( _Do you want me to tell him that he can't pay for his only daughter's wedding? Should I just univite him?_ said Madge, to which Gale's answer was always a grouchy _of course not._ )

She wasn't thrilled, either, that her father (but mainly Effie), was hell-bent on turning their special day into a glowing article for the society pages. What was she supposed to do about it? Traditionally, the bride's family paid for the ceremony. More than that, she knew her father was trying to make amends for his past deficiencies. So was Effie, in her own way. Madge appreciated the gesture, but wished they wouldn't, as now she felt obligated to suffer their good intentions.

There was still another forty minutes to go before the alarm. Madge slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her fiancee, and made her way to the kitchen. She put on a pot of coffee and, while waiting for it to brew, gazed listlessly at the rain lashed window, dreading the long day ahead of her. She was supposed to meet Effie at noon, though she'd much rather have a tooth pulled, or an appendix removed, or anything else which would require being put under for the next few hours.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, Gale was sitting up with his back against the headboard. She couldn't tell by his groggy expression if he was still upset from last night.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. You have more time to sleep," said Madge. She turned to retreat.

"Come here," said Gale, his voice hoarse from sleep. Madge hesitated. "I'm not mad. Too early for that."

Madge perched on the edge of her side of the bed. She eyed him skeptically over the rim of her mug as she took a sip of coffee, lots of sugar, no creamer. Gale schooched to the middle of the bed, lifted the covers as an invitation, and said, "I'm meeting you halfway, Undersee."

A long time ago, so it seemed to her now, it had made her skin crawl whenever he called her _Undersee._ Then he stopped for awhile and she started to miss the sound of it, all the different ways he could say her last name. Ever since the proposal, though, he had started sneaking in the _Undersees_ again, using them more often the closer they got to the wedding, like he was trying to get them all out of his system before she wasn't _Undersee_ anymore.

"Come on," said Gale. "It's warm under here."

Damn him. It wasn't fair to tempt her with warmth. He knew how much she hated being cold, especially on a wet, dreary day, with an afternoon full of Effie looming overhead. Madge set her mug on the bedside table and met him in the middle of their nest of quilts. Gale folded his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. It was very warm indeed. Between the pitter patter of rain and the feel of Gale's fingers combing through her hair, she soon began to relax.

"You know, we never finished apologizing," said Gale, his voice muffled, face burrowed between her neck and shoulder.

"We didn't?" said Madge, feigning ignorance. She knew well enough what he was getting at. His calloused hand, gently kneading her thigh, wasn't difficult to interpret.

"A fight is not officially over without the make-up sex," said Gale. Madge twisted her head around to catch his mouth with hers. She smiled into the drowsy kiss. Gale groaned in displeasure when she pulled away to reposition herself, so that she straddled his lap, facing him. Before he had time to open his eyes, she began to feather his face, stubbled cheeks and chin, nose, and brow, with kisses, little apologies.

Gale gripped her rear to bring her closer. He groaned again at the feel of her silk panties gliding slick and hot along his stomach. "You're not making much of an apology," said Madge, giving him a teasing grin as she rolled her hips against him.

"Still waking up," he said. "Give me a second."

Madge glanced at the clock. She didn't want to waste any of their seconds, so she slid down, aligning her silk clad heat with his half hard cock, rocking back and forth, working him up to full mast. She tried to be patient, but just watching his head tip back against the headboard, and his blue-veined eyelids flutter, drove her crazy. Suddenly, without much warning, Gale pushed her up along his stomach again. He gave her ass a firm squeeze, before letting go to pull aside her panties with one hand and position himself with the other. As soon as Madge felt the throbbing tip of him nudge eagerly at her entrance, she sunk back down.

Gale was the most industrious person she knew from 9 A.M. to a little after midnight, but he was practically useless in the morning. Madge didn't mind doing most of the work. Sometimes it was nice not having to fight for control. Besides, she owed him more of an apology than he owed her. Though they bickered about certain aspects of the wedding plans, Gale silently suffered most of Effie's extravagance. He understood the significance of her parents' over-eager involvement, so he kept his mouth shut about the venue, the ten grand worth of flowers, and the whole bow tie fiasco. He didn't care where they got married, or if he looked ridiculous wearing a bow tie at the altar, as long as Madge was happy, and it was the fact that she wasn't happy at all that bothered him most. She was so preoccupied with trying not to offend her father, with making everyone else (himself included) happy, that she often forgot that her own happiness, on their wedding day, was more important than anyone else's.

"You're killing me, Undersee," said Gale, as she carried on moving her hips in slow circles.

"That's the idea, _Hawthorne_ ," she said, kissing one closed eyelid and then the other. "I'm going to be your wife soon. I'm supposed to make you miserable, right?"

Miserable wasn't exactly the word for what she was doing to him. "You've watched too many Lifetime movies." He dug his fingers into her hips, urging her to go a little faster, but she held firm to her maddeningly slow pace. She had just begun to give in to the pressure, quickening her movements, getting slightly erratic, when a pounding on the bedroom door brought the moment to a stand-still.

"Wake-up call for the happy couple." Peeta's chipper voice sounded as clear and piercing as any alarm.

"Go away, Mellark," said Gale in a half growl, half groan. If looks could kill then Peeta would drop dead from the look Gale was giving him through the door. Madge smothered a laugh against his shoulder.

"You've got ten minutes," said Peeta, persistent as always. "No time to waste today."

Madge waited for his footsteps to fade, before she looked back to Gale's face. He was still glowering at the door. "How did he even get in?" he muttered.

"You gave Katniss a spare key, remember?" said Madge. Gale's frown deepened.

"For emergencies only," he said. "I'm taking back that damn key now. She wasn't even supposed to tell him about it."

Madge chuckled. She planted a conciliatory kiss to his stormy brow, before clambering off of him. "Woah, where do you think you're going?"

"To get dressed," she said.

Gale's cloudy expression cleared. He caught her around the waist, flipped her over, and slipped back inside before she had time to blink. A sharp gasp of pleasure caught in her chest.

"He'll be back in ten minutes if we're not out by then," she said.

"Plenty of time," said Gale, smirking down at her. He was wide awake now.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Madge followed the smell of fresh coffee to the kitchen. Peeta stood at the stove. Bacon grease sizzled and popped in accompaniment to the rain.

"I would've been fine with cereal," said Madge.

"Over my dead body," said Peeta. "You're going to be eating a mountain of cake today, so no sugar for breakfast."

"Can I at least put sugar in my coffee?" said Madge.

Peeta took his eyes off of the bacon just long enough to cast a threatening glance over his shoulder and said, "One teaspoon." When he turned back around, Madge added her usual amount of sugar.

"You'll regret it later," said Peeta, without looking around.

"If you expect me to get through the day, I need my fix."

"I printed an itinerary. Look on the table," said Peeta, as if an itinerary was the solution to all of the world's problems, as if an itinerary would make dress shopping with Effie a tolerable experience. Madge sat down and began leafing through the itinerary, six pages of bulleted print on faux aged paper bound by glossy, white ribbon.

"Katniss outdid herself on this one," said Madge, knowing full well that Katniss had no part in this project. As the maid of honor, it fell to her to help plan the wedding, a task which she was not equipped to handle. Therefore, she delegated to Peeta. He was an artist, so he had impeccable taste. _Consider him an early wedding present_ , Katniss had said. _More like a gag gift,_ Gale told Madge a few weeks later in private.

No one had expected Peeta to be such a zealous wedding planner. He was constantly dropping by, unannounced, or calling at odd hours of the day and night to discuss colors and centerpieces. Between their busy work schedules it was difficult to set aside an hour or two to formulate wedding plans. As she perused the itinerary, Madge reminded herself that Peeta had used up his store of favors with co-workers to get this Saturday off, and even though she would have preferred cereal, she dutifully picked at the bacon and eggs on perfectly browned toast which he set before her and tried to pay attention as he elucidated on the day's outline.

"We've got a lot of ground to cover today. We'll try the cakes here first," he said, gesturing at the teetering tower of bakery boxes on the counter. "We can finalize the music on the road. I made a few CDS last night with a bunch of choices I think you'll like. You can go through the binders, too, while we're driving. I cut out some new prints of dresses, to give you an idea of…"

Madge had given up on listening to him as soon as he mentioned the binders. _It's worse than when he was working on his thesis,_ Katniss often griped. _Those damn binders are everywhere._ He had a different one for flowers, seating, music, wedding gowns, bridesmaid dresses, one for the main course and two for dessert, and another dedicated solely to color swatches. While his powers of organization came in handy, Madge often felt overwhelmed by all of the choices he offered. He was almost worse than Effie, but at least he actually listened to what Madge wanted...even if he went way overboard.

"Are you even listening to me?" said Peeta.

"Of course," said Madge.

"She's not," said Gale, strolling into the kitchen. He pushed his hair, wet from the shower, out of his eyes. "It's 6 A.M. Let her finish her coffee before you bombard her."

 _Thank you_ , mouthed Madge. Gale flashed her a smile, before turning around. He peaked inside the top box of cake samples, but Peeta was at his side in second.

"No cake for you," he said, closing the lid. "Not unless you're staying."

"Would if I could, Mellark," said Gale. He stepped away from the cakes. "You have no idea how much I'd love to spend the whole day discussing tulle with you."

Madge rolled her eyes as she took a sip of coffee. Gale had jumped at the opportunity to trade shifts with Thresh, specifically so he had an excuse not to spend the whole day with Peeta. As much as she wanted him to be here, Madge knew he'd blow a gasket after half an hour with Peeta, and she had enough to worry about without their bickering. Still, when she walked Gale to the door, she followed him out into the hall, twined her arms around his waist, and couldn't bring herself to let go.

"I'm going to be late," said Gale after a minute.

"How about you plan the wedding and I'll go to work for you," said Madge, still holding onto him. A puff of air stirred the hair on the top of her head when Gale let out a snort.

"Boggs would love that," he said. "You can't even check your own oil. Besides, you really want me to try on dresses for you? You know I have a weakness for princess gowns."

Madge looked up at him with her nose wrinkled in mock disgust. She wouldn't be caught dead in one of the monstrosities like the princess gowns Peeta had cut and paste into his binders. However, she was cheered slightly by the mental image of Gale stuffed into a perfect replica of Cinderella's ball gown (glass slippers included).

"Fine," she said, letting go of him with a sigh. "Get out of here, before I change my mind about marrying you at all."

* * *

.

Madge loved sweets, but even she had a limit, and she'd gone well beyond it. Chocolate almond cake with raspberry mousse and chocolate ganache frosting, vanilla butter cake with rum infused custard, pumpkin spice with a torched meringue frosting, chocolate fudge, coconut caramel fluff, vanilla buttercream, galliano infused buttercream, cream cheese buttercream, lime fondant. Visions of wedding cakes danced in her head. Actual wedding cakes seethed in her stomach.

"I'm leaning towards the red velvet," said Peeta. They had been in the car for twenty minutes and he hadn't stopped talking about cakes for a second. "The lemon cake with the white chocolate ganache tasted better, in my opinion, but red velvet is better for a winter wedding. The nutella was really good, too, but not very sophisticated. What about having nutella cupcakes instead, in addition to the main cake? I'm not sure how well it would go with the red velvet, but-"

"Pull over," said Madge.

Peeta took one glance at her greenish, sweaty face and began merging right, across three lanes of traffic, towards the shoulder of the interstate. Before they made it, Madge doubled over. She spread her knees just in time to vomit on the floorboard of Peeta's car rather than all over her lap. There went the chocolate almond cake with raspberry mousse and chocolate ganache frosting, the vanilla butter cake with rum infused custard, and the pumpkin spice with a torched meringue frosting.

"So," said Peeta, once she finished, "is that a no on the red velvet?"

Madge gave him a scathing look, but no reply, afraid to open her mouth again just yet.

* * *

The French restaurant which Effie had chosen served top dollar, authentic cuisine. Usually Madge wasn't a picky eater, but after the morning's disastrous cake tasting, she just didn't have the stomach for snails or goose liver. She picked at her salad while Peeta and Effie exchanged ideas about the wedding menu. She was only half listening to them when Effie asked their waiter whether or not the restaurant catered.

"Gale doesn't like French food," said Madge, speaking up for the first time since exchanging polite _hellos_ with her stepmother.

"Impossible," said Effie with an airy chuckle of disbelief. "Who doesn't like French cuisine?"

"The groom, that's who," said Madge.

Sensing a spat on the horizon, Peeta quickly intervened. "What about Italian? Gale likes that." He smiled at Effie. "So does Katniss. Their family eats more pasta than anyone I know."

"Pasta is so messy, though," said Effie. "I'm not opposed to Italian, but…"

Madge slumped back into her seat. She gave up on her salad altogether. She gave up on joining the conversation again, too. Between Peeta and Effie, it was more trouble than it was worth to get a word in as they carried on making plans, as if the two of them were the ones getting married.

* * *

Madge didn't have a dream wedding dress. She didn't know the first thing about cut, and style, and color. Apparently there were over a hundred shades of white, but she couldn't tell the difference between them. She tried on gown after gown, picked out for her by Peeta and Effie, and then stood on a raised platform, surrounded on all sides by mirrors, while they inspected and critiqued her from every angle.

"I preferred the rose charmeuse," said Effie. "True white makes her look a bit pasty."

"But this cut is better," said Peeta, turning to the consultant. "Do you have any charmeuse with an a-line skirt?"

Within minutes, Madge found herself in the dressing room again to try on a charmeuse a-line. The consultant held her arm to steady her as she stepped out of the magnanimous lake of tulle around her feet and Madge smiled, remembering what Gale had said that morning, about trying on dresses for her.

"Your fiance sure knows his fashion," said the consultant as she carefully gathered the discarded gown and returned it to the hanger.

"Peeta isn't my fiance," said Madge, her smile fading. She wished Gale was here to make jokes at Effie and Peeta, and the thousands of dresses, and the other brides in other fitting rooms making fusses over silly things like buttons and lace.

"Oops," said the consultant. "He's so invested. I just assumed he must be the groom."

Madge imagined Peeta and Effie, making plans while they waited, deciding on the table settings, and the photographer, and probably going so far as to write the vows. Suddenly she couldn't stomach the idea of facing the happy pair of wedding planners. Her feet ached from standing on the platform for the past two hours. She looked at the next dress she was supposed to try on and couldn't bear being swallowed up again, stabbed and pinched by underwire, suffocated by silk.

"Could I have a minute alone, please?" she said.

"Of course," said the consultant, backing out of the room. "Take your time. I'll be right outside when you're ready."

Madge wished the woman would go wait somewhere else. She felt trapped in the dressing room. As soon as she stepped outside, the consultant, and Peeta, and Effie would flock around her, clucking and picking like a brood of sharp-beaked hens. Stripped down to her underwear, she shivered in the air-conditioned cool. She didn't have a dream wedding dress. She didn't know what flavor of cake she wanted, or what color the bridesmaid dresses should be, or how the flowers should be arranged. She hadn't given any previous thought to her wedding, she hadn't dreamed about this day, because she hadn't wanted to confront what she'd always known.

The one person whose advice she wanted, the one person who was supposed to be here, was the one person who couldn't be here. The consultant waited just on the other side of the door, Peeta and Effie waited in the mirrored room, but her mother wasn't out there. Her mother wouldn't be in any of the photographs, no matter who they hired to be the photographer, and her mother wouldn't eat any of the cake, whether it was red velvet or chocolate almond, and whichever dress she chose, her mother would never see it.

Madge tore her eyes away from her reflection when her phone went off. She dug around in her purse, following the feel of the vibrations, until she found her cell at the very bottom. Incoming call from _Mr. President._ She answered on the last ring.

"What are you wearing right now?" said Gale before she even had a chance to say hello. Madge glanced at her reflection. She was a mess, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, greasy hair thrown up in a messy bun, the taste of cake vomit lingering in her mouth.

"Nothing," she said. "Just underwear."

"Effie's going to let you walk down the aisle like that?"

"Ha ha," said Madge, rolling her eyes though he couldn't see her. "I'm in the dressing room, dummy."

"I know," said Gale. "Peeta texted me. He's worried you're never going to come out. Everything alright?"

Madge sunk into the plush cushions of the couch with a heavy sigh. "Can't we just elope?" she said. "We can go to the courthouse tomorrow, sign some papers, and be done with it."

"We could," said Gale. "But you'd be a widow soon. Ma would kill me. She's got her heart set on walking me down the aisle."

"That's not how it works," said Madge, smiling a little despite the horrors of the day. Gale always knew what to say to lift the darkness. They were quiet for a minute. She was content just listening to the sound of his breathing over the line.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" he said, serious now. Madge cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder so she could twist her hands in her lap.

"I just miss her a lot today," she said softly. "I mean, she's supposed to be here, but I'm stuck with Effie and Peeta instead."

Gale didn't need to ask who Madge was missing. Her mother. Who else? Even though she hadn't said anything, he'd known dress shopping day was going to be especially difficult for her, which is why he'd asked Peeta to send him periodic text updates. _Your lovely bride just barfed an entire wedding cake. She's fine. Over and out. The bride is now sulking over a garden salad. Blue cheese dressing, no croutons. Over and out. The bride has locked herself in the bridal dressing room. It's probably time for you to call._

"I know it's hard," said Gale. "But she is there, you know. She's always there."

Madge felt fresh tears on her cheeks. She pressed the phone to ear, wishing she could dissolve into atoms, travel through the line, and materialize in Gale's arms. She had to make do with letting his voice wrap around her.

"And I know your substitutes are kind of a pain in the ass, but they mean well, even Effie. All those stupid binders are just their way of making sure your wedding is perfect, because they love you."

"Our wedding," Madge corrected him. "And you're right. I'm being ungrateful. I-"

"That's not what I meant," said Gale. "It's okay to be upset. I'd be worried if you weren't. I'd give anything for my dad to be in the front row when we tie the knot. I mean really there. Not just in spirit or whatever. When it hurts too much, though, I make myself picture that front row and all of the people who will be there. Go on, try it."

Madge closed her eyes and did as she was told. She saw Hazelle, crying and smiling at the same time, and the rest of the Hawthorne brood. She saw Katniss and Peeta, holding hands, and Prim, Ms. Everdeen, Thom cheering like he was at a football game, and Bristel trying to silence him so that the ceremony could continue. She saw Finnick and Annie exchanging private smiles as they remembered their own vows, Johanna acting bored by the whole thing, Thresh, Delly, Aunt Maysilee and Cousin Darius, and even Effie. She saw her father offering out his arm to walk her down the aisle and at the end of that aisle was Gale Hawthorne, the person who mattered most, the person she wanted more than anything to spend the rest of her life with, and she remembered the point of it all.

"As long as you're there," she said, opening her eyes to the bright lights of the dressing room.

"I'll try to work it into my schedule, but don't get your hopes, Undersee," said Gale. "There's a World Cup qualifier game that day, so I might have to bail."

"I'll divorce if you do," said Madge. She smiled at the sound of his laughter.

"Might have a hard time with that if I don't show for the wedding," he said. "Now put on some clothes and get back out there before Mellark and the Stepmother find the princess gowns."

They went quiet again. Gale wouldn't be the one to hang up, in case she wasn't ready, and Madge was not ready, not quite yet. She had one last thing to say. "I love you, Mr. Hawthorne."

"I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Hawthorne."

Madge smiled as she ended the call. _Mrs. Hawthorne._ She really did like the sound of that.

* * *

On the drive home from the bridal shop, Peeta succumbed to Madge's plea that they not listen to anymore of his wedding music mixed cds. They didn't listen to anything at all. As they pulled onto the highway, Madge shifted in the passenger seat so that she was facing him.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" said Peeta, glancing over at her.

"For being the most dedicated wedding planner a girl could ask for," she said. "And for being one of the most dedicated friends anyone could ask for. I know I've been...resistant."

"You're the bride. You're supposed to be awful," said Peeta, grinning.

"No, seriously, you've done so much and all I've done is complain. It's just that-"

"It's okay, Madge, really," he said. "Look in the glove box."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Madge popped open the glove box and fought not to groan at the sight of yet another binder.

"Open it," said Peeta. She'd had enough of wedding plans for one day, but she couldn't say that after just apologizing to Peeta for complaining all day. So she opened the binder.

"Oh my god," she said softly. Unlike the other binders, this one didn't contain a thousand fabric swatches, or font types, or magazine cut-outs of the perfect ceremony venues. There was one picture and a business card. Madge stared at the picture and her mother stared back through the plastic cover of a sheet protector. A young version of her mother, a happy version, standing on the steps of an old country church in her wedding dress, a single lily tucked behind her ear.

"I thought if you didn't find a dress you liked, maybe you could wear her's," said Peeta. "I already talked to your father, he still has it, and Effie knows a designer who could do the alterations. That's his card."

Madge tore her eyes from the picture of her mother just long enough to read the business card. _Cinna Designs._ She'd met Cinna at one of Effie's dinner parties a few months ago and, unlike most of her stepmother's friends, she had liked him. When she looked back to the picture, tears blurred her vision.

"Well, what do you think?" said Peeta.

"Yes," she said, putting her fingers to the picture.

"Yes to the dress?"

"Yes to the dress," repeated Madge. One hundred percent yes. Peeta was an overzealous wedding planner, but he knew exactly what she wanted, even when she didn't know herself.

* * *

When Madge stepped into the apartment, she was greeted by the smell of her two favorite foods, pizza and brownies.

"Welcome home, honey," said Gale, appearing from the kitchen. She burst out laughing at the sight of him in the frilly pink apron Peeta had given her as a gag gift, knowing full well that she was a disastrous cook. Gale cut her laughter short with a long, tender kiss. He kept his arms around her waist when he finally broke for air. Madge wiped away the smudge of flour on his stubbled cheek and let her hand linger.

"Do you still want to elope?" he said.

"No, not anymore," she said, imagining again all of the faces of her friends and family. There was no need to imagine Gale. He was right here and he was all she needed.


	21. The Perfect Fit

EARLY TWENTIES

Madge sat parked in the Hawthorne's gravel drive and stared at the old two-story company house. It had been built in the late 1800s by District Coal. The whole town, originally a company town, had been built and owned by District Coal until 1940. After the company merged into a larger corporation and the town was granted independent jurisdiction, the house was left to rot. Gale's grandfather purchased it for next to nothing. Gale's parents added on the second story, slapped on a fresh coat of white paint, which had peeled and faded over the years, and put in the gravel drive.

The house was a piece of the town's history and Madge loved it, peeling paint and leaky roof and all. She especially loved that the Hawthornes hadn't taken down their Christmas lights. It was mid-July. She'd been here for Christmas. It wasn't the first one she'd spent with the Hawthornes, but it was the first she'd spend with them as Gale's official girlfriend. She came back for Vick's high school graduation just last month. Driving down that pot-holed, gravel drive, she felt more like she was coming home than she did driving through the iron gates of her father's mansion.

I'd like to live here someday.

Madge was startled by her own thought. The house belonged to the Hawthornes and she was not a Hawthorne. She didn't expect to become one. Or did she? After all, she and Gale had been dating for almost two years now. But marriage? That was crazy. She wasn't one of those girls. She didn't have any aspirations for the future. Being happy in the moment, being happy with Gale just the way they were, was all she cared about. Or was it?

Gale appeared through the front door and Madge shooed away the fleeting thought of marriage.

"Figured you'd be halfway to Canada by now," said Gale, grinning at her. "How many times did you get lost?"

"None," said Madge, crossing her arms. Gale glanced pointedly upwards at the darkening sky. She was supposed to have arrived around lunchtime. "Okay, fine, once or twice. These back roads all look the same and there aren't any street signs."

Originally they were going to drive together, but then Madge had been called in at the last minute for a late-night shift. She'd insisted that Gale go ahead without her, as planned, so that he could help his family prepare for the big trip. He knew she'd get lost, even with the detailed directions he'd left for her. She could get lost in their apartment on the way to the kitchen, but she was stubborn, she knew how important this trip was, and she didn't want him to miss any part of it.

"It was a long drive," said Madge. "Tease me later. After I've had something to eat."

"Deal," said Gale. "Pop the trunk. I'll go ahead and load up your bag."

"Now?" she said, even as she popped the trunk.

"We're hitting the road early tomorrow." Gale rounded the car, looked down into the trunk of Madge's ridiculous clown car, and then raised his eyes back to Madge. "Seriously, a rolling suitcase? You plan on wheeling that through the woods?"

"It's the only thing I have," she said, blushing in indignation.

Gale hefted the suitcase out of the trunk and let it hit the ground with a heavy thud. "Christ, Undersee, what did you put in here, the annual resources of a small country?"

Madge slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. He knew very well she'd never been camping. How was she supposed to know what she needed? It was better to be too prepared than not prepared enough.

Gale caught her wrist and kissed her hand. "We'll sort through it tonight. I'm sure we've got a spare pack lying around. It's my fault, really. Knew I should've helped you packed before I left."

Madge jerked her hand away from him and placed it on her hip. "I'm not a child," she said.

"No, you're a virgin."

She arched her brows. If that was so, what had they been doing for the past few years? Gale chuckled. "A nature virgin," he clarified. "You just need some experience. Don't worry. I'm an excellent teacher."

Even though she was tired, sweaty, nervous and ravenous, she couldn't help grinning back at him. She never should have agreed to come on this trip, but saying no to Gale Hawthorne was almost impossible. Especially when she knew what it meant to be invited in the first place. She might not by a Hawthorne by name, but after this trip she would be an honorary member of the clan.

* * *

The things that Madge considered camping necessities were spread out on Gale's bed. He picked up her fluffy bunny slippers and chuckled to himself. Most of what she'd brought was useless, but he'd suspected this would happen and he was prepared. He'd gone over to his aunt and uncle's house that morning to borrow some of Katniss' old clothes. Her feet were two sizes bigger than Madge's, so he'd hit up the shoe store afterwards and splurged on a new pair of hiking boots. They weren't cheap. He didn't plan on telling Madge just exactly how much of a dent they'd put in his pay check, because he knew she'd insist on paying him back, which was stupid considering she hadn't wanted to go camping to begin with. She hadn't said as much. She didn't need to.

It wasn't that Madge didn't like the great outdoors. She liked helping his mother in the garden. She liked spending the afternoon reading at the park. She was always up for a picnic. She did all of these things as long as she could return to the air-conditioned, bug-free indoors after a few hours. As Gale continued picking through the things she'd packed, he tried to imagine the Undersees on a camping trip. He smiled at the image of Mayor Undersee in a flannel shirt, instead of his suit jacket and tie, and Effie cooking beans over an open flame. No, the Undersees just weren't that sort of family. When they went on vacation they stayed in five-star hotels, had their meals prepared for them, rested their heads on feather pillows.

Madge wasn't quite so picky. She never complained about roughing it in a cheap motel whenever the gang took a trip to the beach. She was alright with living on vienna sausages and pork rinds for a few days and she could even deal with the bugs. They had their fair share of spiders in the apartment, after all, and she wasn't squeamish about beating them to death with the nearest shoe. But in some ways she was still a spoiled brat. She complained when there was no hot water and she could be a downright child if she forgot to pack her stupid bunny slippers, so Gale set them on top of Katniss' borrowed clothes, even though they were likely to be ruined. He'd buy her new pair when they got back.

He'd splurge on an Undersee style vacation when they got back, too, one with breakfast in bed and kitschy bus tours, the kind of stuff he hated. Madge was stepping out of her comfort zone for him. The least he could do was return the favor. Although he hoped she might actually enjoy herself this week. Camping was a big deal to his family and he wanted her to be a part of it.

"Who's clothes are those?" said Madge, startling him from his thoughts. He turned to find her standing in the doorway, her hair wrapped up in a towel, eyeing the pile of clothes on the bed.

"Katniss'," he said.

Madge stooped over to pick up the new hiking boots on the floor. "And these? Don't tell me they belong to Miss Bigfoot, too. How much did they cost?"

"Don't worry about it," said Gale.

"I told you not to-"

"They're second hand," he said. "Dirt cheap, I swear."

Madge inspected the boots. Second hand, yeah right, she thought. Before she could further protest the purchase, call him out on his lie, Gale crossed the room. He unwrapped the towel and ran his fingers through her still wet hair.

"I haven't kissed you in over twenty-four hours, Undersee, so just shut up for a second," he said. Seconds later, they were on the bed, twisted up together on top of all the useless stuff she'd brought. The edge of her silly first-aid kit (a Disney princess lunch box containing Disney princess band-aids and a tube of Neosporin) cut into Gale's back, but he didn't care, not with Madge pressed against him, her wet hair tickling his face, her mouth on his. He was working on untying her bathrobe when someone cleared their throat.

Madge squeaked and nearly rolled off of the bed. Gale stayed where he was and glared up at Rory, standing at the foot of the bed.

"Ever hear of knocking?" snapped Gale.

"Ever hear of locking the door?" said Rory. He looked to Madge. "Found this for you," he said, tossing her the empty pack in his hands, before turning his smarmy smirk back to Gale. "Ma wanted me to tell you to finish packing and go to sleep. You're a grumpy pain in the ass when you're tired and none of us want to deal with that tomorrow."

Gale threw one of Madge's pink Keds at his brother's retreating back. Without turning around, Rory flipped him off, before shutting the door. "Little shit," muttered Gale.

"He's right, though," said Madge, still blushing, but smiling now. "We should sleep." She set the empty pack on the bed and began filling it with Katniss' clothes. She stopped suddenly when she noticed the initials stitched into the front pouch of the pack. H.H. Henry Hawthorne. She looked at Gale.

"This was your dad's," she said. Gale nodded. "I can't use this. It's not...I mean...it wouldn't be right."

"It's not a big deal." Gale scooted over to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her down onto his lap. "I don't think he'd care if you borrowed it."

"It just doesn't feel right," said Madge.

Gale sighed. He pressed his forehead to her's. "Remember in middle school, when you were in the hospital?"

"I remember," said Madge, rolling her eyes. "You gave me a concussion."

"Let it go, Undersee. It was an accident."

"Bullshit," she said.

"Anyway," said Gale, "that was the only time he ever whooped me. Ma was always quick to bring out the belt, but not him. I'd never seen him so mad. He always liked you, Undersee, and he'd want you to have the pack. Alright?"

"Alright," said Madge.

They finished repacking. Gale turned off the lights, hurried across the dark room, and slipped under the covers beside his girlfriend. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. Driving always wiped her out. But Gale couldn't fall asleep. He held her close, listening to her soft, little snores in the pitch-blackness, and thought back to that time in middle school. There was a part of the story he hadn't told her, the words his father had spoken as they left the hospital, and Gale heard those words now, words he hadn't thought about since.

You're going to marry that girl someday. Just you wait.

* * *

The boots were heavy. Madge's leg muscles burned after less than a mile. She was sunburnt, covered in itchy mosquito bites, and sweat stung her eyes. She refused to ask how much further. She refused to complain, not when the Hawthornes were all in such a good mood. Even Rory and Gale seemed to be getting along. Joking and laughing, they led the pack. Posy was singing a marching song she'd learned in Girl Scouts. Left, left, left, right, left. My back aches, my pants too tight, my hips shake from left to right. Vick stopped every few minutes to collect plant samples. Hazelle dropped back to keep Madge company.

"How you holding up?" she said.

"I'm great," said Madge, forcing a cheery smile.

"You're limping," said Hazelle. "Come on, let's stop for a minute."

Madge heaved a grateful sigh of relief. She leaned against a mossy tree trunk to take some weight off of her aching feet.

"I hated camping the first time Henry dragged me out here," said Hazelle. She looked ahead to Posy and the boys, who kept on without them. "Bitched at him the whole week. I think I broke up with him at least twenty times on that trip." She turned her eyes back to Madge and smiled. "You're doing much better than I did."

"Thanks," said Madge, unsure what else to say. She always felt uncomfortable when any of them brought up Mr. Hawthorne, never knew the appropriate way to respond. Hazelle seemed to understand.

"It means a lot to Gale that you came," she said. "You're good for him. I was worried he'd never get his shit together. Didn't think there was a woman alive who could whip him into shape."

"You whipped him good enough," said Madge.

"Well, I tried my best." Hazelle's expression turned suddenly serious. "You love him, don't you?"

Madge looked ahead to Gale. He was singing with Posy now, the two of them marching in uniform army formation. "Yeah," she said. She pushed off of the tree and started walking again. That's how much she loved Gale Hawthorne.

After a few minutes, though, she couldn't stop herself from asking Hazelle, "So, how much further do we have to go?"

"You don't want to know," said Hazelle.

* * *

After a meal of hot dogs and beans, the Hawthornes retired for the night, leaving the lovebirds alone. Gale stoked the fire. He tuned out the sound of Rory and Vick bickering in their tent. When he turned back around to Madge, he caught her frowning.

"Smile, Undersee, the worst is over."

"We still have to hike back," she said, the closest thing to a complaint she'd voiced all day. However, she did manage to keep from pointing out that she considered having to sleep on the ground just as bad as the eight hour trek up a mountain.

Gale settled down behind her and she leaned against him. He rested his chin on top of her head. "Go ahead, let it all out," he said.

"I'm fine, really, just tired."

"Liar," said Gale. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, before the dam burst.

"Fine," she said. "I'm a gourmet dinner plate for all these damn mosquitoes. I've got blisters the size of China. I'd kill you for a hot shower right now and I think we should break up when we get home, because you're a jerk for dragging me out here."

Gale chuckled. "Feel better now?"

"Not really," she mumbled. A second later, though, she added, "I'm sorry. I'm trying to have a good time." She twisted her head around to face him. "I know these camping trips are a big deal for all of you, but I'm just not cut out for this. You were right about me all along. I'm a pampered princess."

"Yeah, but you're my pampered princess now, so it's alright," said Gale. He stood up and offered out his hand. "It's time I properly thanked you for agreeing to this, Your Royal Highness."

Madge took in the short distance between the fire and their tent. She wasn't sure she could walk one more step. Reading her expression, Gale stooped down and swept her up into his arms like she was a doll. He carried her bridal style to the tent, set her down at the entrance, and crawled in after her. Madge collapsed on top of the sleeping bag.

"You'll have to thank me later," she said, eyelids drooping. Gale unlaced her boots and carefully slid them off. He cradled her feet in his lap and massaged her throbbing soles, careful to avoid the nasty blisters that had formed on her heels. Madge let her eyes close. She was too tired to care much about the rock digging into her rear and, truthfully, the nighttime sounds of the outdoors were kind of nice. She let the crickets' song wash over her.

"Bears," she said sleepily.

"What about them?" said Gale.

She cracked open her eyes just a sliver to look at him. "If you let one eat me while I'm sleeping, I really will break up with you."

"Don't worry, Princess," he said. "I'm the only thing that's going to be eating you out here."

"You and the mosquitoes," she said, before sinking into total oblivion.

* * *

Gale had left Madge before daybreak. He figured she'd rather sleep in than go hunting. Getting her to camp was enough. He wasn't about to press his luck. Not that he and Rory were having any luck out in the woods. Every trail they picked up came to a dead end. They'd been at it for hours by the time they decided to stop for lunch. They never fought when they hunted together. Hunting was sacred. Hunting was about community. Their father had taught them that.

Sitting next to Rory on a fallen, hollowed out tree trunk, Gale thought about the first time his father brought them here. Gale had been ten and Rory eight. It was right after he'd pushed Rory off of the front porch and sprained his wrist over something stupid. He couldn't remember what, but he did remember what his father had told them. You're always going to fight and then you're going to forgive each other. It was out here, in the woods, stalking turkeys and deer, that they'd learned the importance of family, learned how to forgive each other for all of the stupid stuff.

"Are you going to ask Madge to marry you?" said Rory.

Gale almost choked on a mouthful of jerky. He swallowed hard and rounded on his brother. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Ma was the only one he'd told about his intentions and he'd sworn her to secrecy. It wasn't like her to break a promise. Rory couldn't have been eavesdropping, either. Gale had sent him out with Madge to get party supplies when he talked to Ma about it at Vick's graduation.

"Ma hasn't been wearing her ring lately," said Rory.

"You notice too much," muttered Gale.

"So, you do have it," said Rory. "I knew it! When are you asking her?"

"That's none of your business."

Rory ripped off a hunk of jerky and chewed thoughtfully for a minute. Then he said, "You're doing it this week, aren't you? That's why you made her come with us."

Gale sighed in defeat. For someone who'd just barely graduated high school, Rory was too damn clever for his own good. "Alright, genius boy, you've got it all figured out, but I swear if you tell her, I'll skin you and roast you over the fire. Got it?"

Rory pretended to zip his lips together. They both fell silent. Gale stared off into the trees. He was going to ask Madge tomorrow night. He had it all planned, knew word for word what he was going to say, and yet none of his meticulous planning had done anything to ease the big ball of leaden terror in his gut.

"Do you think she'll say yes?" said Gale. He regretted asking as soon as the words left his mouth and waited for Rory to make some snide remark. After all, ever since he found out that Gale and Madge were dating, he hadn't wasted a single opportunity to remind his brother that the mayor's daughter was way too good for him. But that was at home, back in the real world, and they were in the woods now, their sacred place.

"She'll say yes," said Rory without a trace of uncertainty. Then to keep the moment from becoming too mushy, he added, "And it'll be the biggest mistake of her life."

Gale shoved him off of the log. "Shit head," he said.

"Dumb ass," Rory threw back at him. They smiled at each other.

* * *

Maybe camping isn't so bad, thought Madge, floating on her back across the lake. She'd enjoyed herself with the Hawthornes today. She'd spent the morning receiving fishing lessons from Posy, and then explored the woods with Vick, helping him collect new samples for the nature book he was working on and discussing his plans for next year. He'd been granted a full scholarship to NYU. It was a long way from home, but Madge assured him he'd be fine. He was a bright kid and she was sure it wouldn't take long for him to fall in love with New York. She promised to let him show her around the Museum of Natural History when she and Gale visited.

Now, as she drifted aimlessly, she wondered if it was presumptive to already be planning a trip to New York to visit Gale's brother. When she was them, it was hard to not feel like part of the family. If she and Gale ever did break up, and she dreaded the thought, she would miss the other Hawthornes. Even in high school she'd envied Gale's family, so different, so much warmer than her own.

Madge closed her eyes against the sun, high in the sky, and let her thoughts slip away. The water was the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold. Posy had promised her that there was nothing bigger than trout in the lake, so Madge wasn't worried. Not until something grabbed her ankle and dragged her under. She screamed on instinct and water flooded her lungs. She kicked, wildly flailed her arms, remembered everything she'd learned watching Shark Week with Gale and Thom last year.

Then her head broke the surface again. Even over her coughing and spluttering, she heard Gale laughing. He was bobbing just a few feet away, out of her reach. "Not funny," gasped Madge, once she'd dispelled half of the lake from her lungs. She turned her back on him and began paddling to shore. Gale caught up to her.

"Did you think I was the lochness monster?" he said. She answered by splashing him in the face and trying to swim around him, but he snared his arms around her waist before she made it another three strokes.

"I'm sorry," he said, though his lingering grin wasn't all that apologetic. Madge continued to glare at him. That is until he kissed her. By the time he drew back, she'd forgotten how much she wanted to drown him. Her legs had locked around his waist sometime during the kiss without her noticing.

"Heard you caught us some dinner," said Gale. "That's good, because Rory and I didn't get a damn thing."

"It was all Posy," said Madge. "She's like the fish whisperer or something."

"Uh huh," said Gale, not really thinking about fish anymore. He was too distracted by the exposed strip of skin between Madge's breast. Her skimpy, black bikini was about the only thing she'd packed that he approved of. He dipped his head to kiss her freckled collar bone. Madge twined her fingers through his wet hair. No, she definitely wasn't mad at him anymore. His hand crept up her thigh, under her bikini bottoms.

"Your family's right over there," she said, warning him.

"So what?" said Gale, his voice muffled against her neck. "They're not paying us any attention."

Madge glance to the shore. Sure enough, the Hawthornes seemed fully engaged in getting supper ready. While she was watching them, Gale pulled aside her bikini bottoms and slipped inside of her, winning her full and undivided attention once more.

"Just don't scream," he said. "Sound carries over the water."

Madge buried her face against his shoulder to keep quiet. She was definitely starting to like this whole camping thing.

* * *

The next day, Gale didn't let Madge sleep in. The two of them set off alone shortly after breakfast. "Where are we going?" she asked every half hour. Gale wouldn't tell her. It was a long, tricky hike, but they took it slow, making frequent stops to catch their breath, refuel, and...other less relaxing things. Gale carried the pack with their tent, so she guessed they'd be spending the night at this secret place of his.

"You know I don't like surprises," said Madge. They were stopped in a clearing. She dipped back her head to look at the low-hanging sun. "It's getting dark. Are we setting up here?" The clearing was pretty, sure, but it didn't seem worth the hike in her opinion.

"No," said Gale, crouched over the pack with his back to her. "We're almost there. See that little trail?"

Madge squinted in the direction he'd pointed. She didn't see any trail. Just more trees and those awful briar bushes. Over the past hour, Gale had stopped talking much. He seemed almost nervous and she wondered if they were lost. Her thoughts turned once more to bears. Every blackened stump looked like a clawed creature ready to maul them in the fading light of day.

"We're lost, aren't we?" she said, curling her arms around herself. Gale rose from his crouch with a red bandanna in hand.

"I've come here a hundred times before," he said, stepping towards her. "Have a little faith, Undersee, and hold still." He raised the folded bandana to her face and she stepped back.

"What are you doing?"

"Blindfolding you," he said.

Madge shook her head furiously. "Like hell," she said. She had enough difficulty walking with her sight intact.

"Please?" said Gale. "Trust me."

Madge scowled at him a moment longer. Something was off about him. He said they weren't lost, but then why was he acting so odd? Almost like he was afraid. His nerves made her nervous. But she did trust him. She trusted even enough to lead her blindfolded through the woods.

"Fine," she said. "This better be good, though." She let Gale cover her eyes with the bandana and tie it securely. She gripped his arm for dear life and took shuffling, baby steps. Gale winced as her nails dug into his arm. He didn't complain.

"Almost there," he said, coaxing her along.

"I hate you, Hawthorne," she muttered. They were going uphill. It was only a slight incline, but it disoriented her. If this was some kind of prank, she'd kill him this time, bury him out here in the middle of nowhere, tell his family he'd been eaten by a bear.

"Love you, too," said Gale. He'd stopped walking. When he let go of her arm, Madge panicked and reached out both hands to find him again. She grasped empty air.

"Gale!"

"You can take off the blindfold," he said, his voice coming from a short distance away. Madge ripped the bandana from her face, ready to charge him to the ground, but her anger vanished the moment she saw where he'd brought her. She found herself at the top of a high cliff overlooking the lake. The vibrant orange and pink colors of sunset rippled across the glassy water. She could see the Hawthorne's camp, the tents teeny dots on the distant shore.

"Oh my god," she said, breathless. "It's beautiful. It's the most amazing thing I've-" She turned around to face Gale and fell short of words at the second most thing she'd ever seen. Gale was down on one knee, smiling up at her, a ring in his hand. The diamond sparkled in the sunset light. She blinked once, twice, not daring to believe her eyes. This wasn't happening. She was dreaming. She had to be.

"Margaret Undersee," said Gale, a slight tremor in his voice. "How would you like to be my wife?"

Madge opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She couldn't remember how to speak, so she threw herself at him instead, knocking him to the ground just as she'd intended to do a few moments ago.

"Yes," she finally said, kissing his mouth, his stubbled cheeks, any part of him she could reach. "Yes, yes, yes."

* * *

They never got around to setting up the tent. Madge didn't care. She was perfectly content laying naked on the ground with a heavy, hand-made quilt tossed over her and Gale stretched out beneath her. In fact, she was happier than she'd ever been. It was dark now. She sat up to look down at the lake, the starry reflection of the heavens above. She held up her hand to make sure the ring was still there. It was, catching the moonlight.

"It was Ma's," said Gale, still lying on his back, his hands folded behind his head. The big ball of leaden terror in his gut was gone. He felt lighter than air now. So light he might drift away if she wasn't pinning him down. "This is where dad proposed to her."

Madge sunk back down, wanting to be as close to him as possible, now and forever. "I love it here," she said, nuzzling her cold nose against his neck.

"So, not a bad surprise?" said Gale.

"No, not bad. I'm impressed, Hawthorne. How long have you been planning this?"

"Few months."

Madge propped up to look at him in surprise. That long? Gale laughed at her expression. "You really had no idea?" he said. She shook her head. She hadn't expected this at all.

"Didn't think you were the marrying type," she said, grinning.

"Never thought I was, either," said Gale. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I didn't stand a chance against you. There's no one else, Madge. There never has been. You're the only woman I want."

"Till death do us part," said Madge, leaning in to kiss him for the thousandth time that night.

"And then some," said Gale.

* * *

Posy took one look at Madge's ringed finger and shrieked with joy. She barrelled down on the happy couple, wrapping one arm around Gale's waist and the other around Madge's.

"I knew you'd say yes!" she said, squeezing them both as tight as her scrawny, little arms would allow. Gale looked to Rory.

"What?" said Rory with a shrug. "You told me not to tell Madge, but you didn't say anything about this lot."

Gale rolled his eyes. He was too happy at the moment, though, to cuff his brother upside the head.

"Congratulations," said Vick. "Welcome to the family."

"Get out while you still can," added Rory. It was Hazelle who cuffed him as she strode past to Madge. She drew her in for a sturdy hug.

"Thank you for the ring," said Madge as soon as Gale's mother released her. "I'll take good care of it."

"Oh, I know. I wouldn't have given it up for just anyone," said Hazelle, smiling. She clasped Madge's hand to admire the ring. "Henry had it custom made. It fits you."

Tears prickled at the corner of Madge's eyes. Before they spilled over, Posy was clinging to her again. "I'll finally have a sister," she babbled. "I've always wanted one."

"Me too," said Madge.

Gale stood off to the side while his family pelted Madge with questions and congratulations and plans for the future. The perfect fit, he thought, watching them. She was more than a match for the Hawthorne clan. Whether or not she ever became an expert camper, she belonged with them. Somehow his father had known that over a decade ago. You're going to marry that girl someday. Just you wait. All these years Gale had been waiting without even realizing it and the wait had definitely been worth this moment.


	22. Shark in the Water

**AN:** Probably the last segment in the Gale/Madge/Thom roommate saga. But who really knows, because I love the three of them living together :)

* * *

 **SENIOR YEAR**

 **July**

"Let's get a pygmy shark," Thom called from the kitchen.

"No," said Madge. She didn't look up from painting her toenails. One foot down. One more to go. She second guessed her color choice. Bright, cherry red. Was it too slutty?

"I'll take care of it," said Thom.

"You said the same thing about Pickle and look what happened."

"Hey now," said Thom, striding into the living room with a bowl of buttered popcorn cradled in one arm and a beer in each hand. "It's not my fault your cat is evil. Who knew cats even ate turtles?" He plopped down on the couch beside Madge as she was mid-swipe. Cherry red paint splashed across her pinky toe. She grabbed a Kleenex and wiped it away before the spot dried.

"We're not getting a pygmy shark," she said.

"But-"

"It's probably not even legal to have them as pets."

"You can find anything on the black market," said Thom. Madge finally looked at him.

"Get one when you move into your own apartment," she said. By that time, Thom would've forgotten all about pygmy sharks. He was always coming up with crazy ideas. Thankfully, they had the lifespan of a fruit fly. Come tomorrow he'd be begging her to adopt a Bengal tiger or hanging up a zebra tapestry in the living room. He watched way too much Animal Planet.

"Fine," Thom huffed. He fell back against the couch cushions and turned up the t.v. volume. A new segment was about to start. "Oh shit, time for the Great Whites. Where the hell is Gale? He can't miss this."

Madge rolled her eyes. Boys, she thought. Shark Week was like a holiday for the two of them. They'd spent every minute of their free time for the past few days glued to the television screen. When one of them was working and the other at home watching, they texted each other shark facts. When they were both home, they talked about sharks non-stop.

"You guys need psychiatric help," said Madge. "You're obsessed with this crap."

"Crap?" said Thom, looking at her as though she'd committed some sacrilege. "Sharks are the coolest creatures on the planet. They're the gods of the ocean. They're-"

"Big fish with lots of teeth," said Madge.

Thom elbowed her in the side, so that she smeared her polish again. She held the dripping brush at him threateningly. "Mess me up again and I'll paint you bloody."

"What's the point of that, any way?" he said, glancing at her shiny toes. "You're wearing closed toed shoes. Unless you plan on getting laid on the first date."

"Second date," said Madge. "And how do you know what shoes I'm going to wear?"

"Because your outfit's already laid on your bed."

Madge flicked a glob of paint at his face. "Stop going into my room!"

Thom wasn't paying her any attention anymore. The show was starting. "A shadow prowls just below the surface," the voice-over host said. "A hungry shadow, a creature that has inspired horror in the human imagination for hundreds of years."

Madge finished her toes. She was fanning them dry with a piece of paper when Gale barged into the apartment. "What'd I miss?" he said, dropping his bag unceremoniously to the floor. He was about to sit down on the other side of Madge, but she stopped him by stretching out her legs over the empty cushion.

"You're covered in grease," she said. "If you want to sit on my couch, you've got to change first."

"Ssssh, it's getting good," said Thom, leaning forward. Gale remained standing in his dirty work clothes. He made no move to change. His attention was already fixed on the t.v.

"Idiots," muttered Madge. This time they both shushed her. Boys, she thought again, rising from the couch. Foam separators between her toes, she hobbled quickly to her room to get dressed. "If you mess up my couch, you're buying me a new one," she said to Gale, before closing and locking the bedroom door.

* * *

By the time Madge reemerged, wearing a short summer dress in place of her bathrobe, Gale had changed into his ratty pajamas, the popcorn was all gone, and a commercial break was underway.

"We could probably find a big enough aquarium at the pet shop," Thom was saying. "Males only grow to about ten inches and females a little less."

"We are not getting a pygmy shark," said Madge as she fumbled through her purse in search of her keys.

"Oh, come on, Madgie. Pretty please?"

"Where are you going?" said Gale. He eyed Madge from head to cherry red toes. She'd changed her mind and gone with a pair of sandals. Might as well show off all of her hard work.

"Marvel's taking me to that new Japanese restaurant," she said. She paused on her way to the door to check her hair one last time in the mirror by the coat rack. Suddenly Gale's face loomed behind the reflection of her own.

"Or you could stay here," he whispered, lips close to her ear. He tugged at the hem of her skirt, his knuckles grazing the back of her leg.

"No thanks," she said, ducking away from him. "I've had enough sharks for one day."

"The show's almost over," said Gale. He gave her that tell-tale, heart melting smirk. God, she was tempted. She could tell Marvel she'd come down with the stomach flu, or she had to work late, or her father was in the hospital. But no, she wasn't going to bail on him. He'd already made a reservation.

"Sorry, chum bucket," said Madge, patting Gale's cheek. "Raincheck." Then she hurried out the door before he made her change her mind. Gale collapsed against the wall. He glowered at the door.

"Marvel," he said in disgust. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Ask his parents," said Thom. "Show's back on."

Gale kept glowering at the door. He had bigger fish on his mind than sharks now. Madge's choice of dress bothered him. It was too short, too low-cut, too suggestive. "You think they're hooking up already?" he said.

Thom let out a low groan. "Fuck's sake, if you're so bothered by her dating other people, just tell her."

"Why would it bother me?" said Gale. "We're friends, that's all. I just don't like this Marvel guy."

"You've never met him," said Thom. "And stop bullshitting me with that just friends crap. My room's right next to her's. The two of you aren't exactly quiet and the walls are like toilet paper."

Gale turned about as red as Madge's toes. So much for being secretive about their friends with benefits set-up. "It doesn't mean anything," he said, coming across as too defensive. Thom tore his eyes away from the t.v. to fix his friend with a who the hell are you kidding stare.

"When was the last time you slept with someone else?" he said.

Gale searched his memory. His brow furrowed as he realized that he hadn't slept with anyone else in a month, not since he and Madge started hooking up. How was that possible? He'd had a different girl for every week since high school. Something didn't add up.

"That's what I thought," said Thom. "You like her, dude. You like like her."

"Shit," said Gale. He threw his head back against the wall. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Mind having your little existential crises somewhere else?" said Thom, his sympathy reserve for the day all dried up. "I'm trying to learn about Great Whites here."

* * *

The restaurant was one of those where chefs in tall, white hats cooked at your table. Madge gazed into the flames as she stabbed at her shrimp sauce drenched rice. She couldn't stop thinking about Gale's fingertips at the back of her leg, his lips on her inner thigh, the way he said her name when he climaxed, and…

"You alright?" said Marvel.

Madge jumped a little in her seat. She turned to her date and hoped he'd attribute her flushed cheeks to the heat of the fire.

"Sorry," she said. "Just daydreaming."

"About what?" said Marvel. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Not about you, she thought. Marvel was handsome, blond, clean-cut. He was polite, sophisticated, a grad student, the type she usually went after. Nothing at all like Gale. He was a boy she could bring home for Christmas. He was safe. He's boring. She felt guilty for the thought, but it was true. On their last date, when he'd kissed her goodnight, it was like being kissed by her grandmother. There was no flutter, no heat, no desire to push him up against a back alley wall like she'd done to Gale last week when they went to the movies. God, she'd never come so fast before. She'd never fucked anyone in public before, either. Don't think about it, she told herself, shifting around in her seat in an attempt to ease the tingling sensation between her sweaty thighs.

"Nothing interesting," she said to Marvel. He sized her up for a moment, her flushed face, trembling hands, half-panting breaths. Grinning a bit wider, he leaned into her.

"You want to get out of here?" he said. "My roommate's out of town."

Madge drew back. She didn't mean to. It was just instinct and it didn't make any sense. Marvel was the kind of guy she was supposed to be with. He was a great catch. All of her girlfriends said so. But when he put his hand on her knee, she felt absolutely nothing. He was the perfect guy, so then why didn't she like him?

"I'm sorry," she said, scooting back her chair. "It's been a long day. I'm tired." She took out her wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill onto the table. "I think I'll just go home. Call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," said Marvel, looking somewhat stunned now. He reached for the twenty and offered it back to her. "I've got it covered."

"No, no," said Madge, already on her feet, already retreating. It was too hot in here. She needed to get out right now. "I'll call," she said again. Then she spun around and didn't look back.

* * *

Thom had left to meet Bristel at the Hobb about an hour ago. Gale declined the offer. Animal Planet was rerunning a shark segment he'd already seen, but he didn't bother changing the channel or turning on the living room lights. He didn't feel capable of moving from his sprawled position on the couch. Everytime he heard someone passing by in the hall, he lifted his head, hopeful. He watched the clock on the wall tick tock to his misery. What if Madge didn't come home tonight? She wouldn't have painted her toes for nothing.

Shit, shit, shit. This was ridiculous. This wasn't like him. What was he doing, wallowing in the dark on a Friday night? He was gathering his strength to rise, to join Thom and Bristel, find a girl at the bar to go home with, when he heard another set of footsteps in the hallway. He looked to the door, holding his breath, as someone on the other side fumbled with the lock. A second later, he let out his breath when Madge entered. She flipped on the lights. Gale's eyes burned after so many hours in the dark. He squinted up at her.

"Well, how was it?" he said, squinting at her, trying to sound casual. Madge gestured for him to lift his legs so she could sit down.

"It was...nice," she said.

"Kind of early," said Gale.

"Guess so."

They fell silent. Madge kept her eyes on the t.v. where two tiger sharks were battling each other for territory. "Is this the one where they find the car muffler in the shark's teeth?" she said.

"Yeah," said Gale. More silence. Then, before he could stop himself, Gale blurted, "Are you going to see him again?"

Madge shrugged. She looked down at his feet in her lap. He had nice ankles. What a weird thing to notice. "I said I'd call tomorrow."

"And will you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. What's with the interrogation?"

Gale sat up straight. He edged to the far side of the couch. The foot between them was charged with tension. Not the good kind. Just tell her, he thought, tell her you don't want her to call Marvel tomorrow, tell her you don't want to share her with anyone else.

"Just curious," he said.

"Really?" said Madge. She finally looked at him. "Since when?"

"It's just, well, if you're going to sleep with him, I think I have a right to know. I don't want to catch something from your boyfriend."

Madge made a derisive snort. "Alright fine, tell me who've you been with, then?" she snapped.

"No one," said Gale.

It took a second for his answer to sink in. "No one?" she said, doubtful.

"Not since we…" Gale ducked his head. "Well, you know."

"No one at all?"

"Nada, zero, zilch," said Gale. "How else do you want me to say it?"

"Why?" said Madge.

"Because," he muttered.

"Because why?"

Tell her, tell her, just fucking tell her, thought Gale. He faced Madge again and spoke in a totally not-cool, flustered rush. "Because I haven't wanted to. Because I can't think about anyone else. Because I don't even see other girls anymore. Because none of them are you. That's why."

Madge gaped at him for a long time. Feeling self-conscious, Gale turned back to the t.v. A man with elbow-high rubber gloves was prying a car muffler from the jaw of a tiger shark. After a few minutes, when Madge still hadn't said anything, he stood up. "Forget it," he said. He took one step, before Madge caught his arm.

"I'm not calling Marvel tomorrow," she said. Gale looked down at her hopefully.

"Why?" he said.

"Because," said Madge, the corners of her lips lifted in a teasing smile.

"Because why?"

She perched up on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Because I like you, chum bucket. Because you're cute when you're jealous. Because-"

Gale didn't need to hear any more of her reasons. He lifted her off of the couch and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Madge giggled as he walked to her bedroom.

Gale Hawthorne was totally wrong for her. She didn't want anything right.


	23. Easy As Riding a Bike

**SOPHOMORE YEAR (college)**

February

Puppy love was in the air. Cupid prowled the campus. Valentine's Day had come again. Madge paused to look at the hall bulletin board. Their R.A., Glimmer, had out done herself. Every inch of the 5' by 3' board was covered in pink and gold glitter. Papier-mâché hearts burst from the wall. Glimmer had gone from room to room the week before collecting pictures of her residents with their current girlfriend or boyfriend. Katniss refused to be a part of it at first, but eventually caved just to get Glimmer off her back, so among the happy couple photos Madge found a photo booth snapshot of Peeta, sticking out his tongue, and Katniss, her face turned away from the camera and mostly hidden by her hair. It seemed like everyone on their hall had a photo on the board. Everyone except Madge.

She continued on to her room. She didn't want to be on Glimmer's tacky bulletin board, any way. Valentine's Day was an absurd holiday. It didn't make her sad. She'd never been one of those girls who moped around the whole day, bemoaning her single status, or the other sort of girl who overcompensated by telling anyone who'd listen that she was happy dating herself. She just tried to ignore the holiday, treat it like any other day, because that's all it really was.

Katniss felt the same way. Unfortunately Peeta did not. When Madge stepped into their room, she froze in horror. It looked like a Hallmark gift store had exploded in the common area. A dozen heart-shaped balloons bumped against the ceiling. Flowers carpeted the floor. Katniss stood in the middle of it all, scowling at a life-sized teddy bear holding a stuffed heart with Be My Valentine written out in gold thread.

"Gross," said Madge.

"Totally gross," agreed Katniss. She kicked at the bear's plushy foot. "Why do people think teddy bears are romantic? Bears aren't cute or cuddly. They're territorial carnivores."

"People are stupid," said Madge, closing the door.

"Peeta's stupid," said Katniss. "Remind me again why I'm dating him."

Madge crossed the room, trampling flowers with every step, and opened one of the many tupperware container on the coffee table. "Because he bakes the best cookies in the world," she said through a mouthful of gooey, chocolate heaven.

"Right," said Katniss. "There is that."

"Also he's funny, and smart, and considerate, and generous, and-"

"A great big sap," said Katniss. She turned her back on the teddy bear and collapsed onto the couch. Madge offered her a cookie.

"But he's your great big sap," she said.

Katniss rolled her eyes, but a little smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, I guess he is," she said. Madge crashed onto the couch beside her. For a moment, they both took in the room. How much had Peeta spent on all this junk and what the hell were they supposed to do with it now?

"What are the two of you doing tonight?" said Madge.

"I don't know. He won't tell me," said Katniss. "Knowing him, though, it probably involves a horse-drawn carriage."

"Polished your glass slippers yet?"

Katniss gave her a scathing look. "What about you? Will you be okay alone?" she said, a touch of concern in her voice. The break-up with Finnick was still fresh in Madge's memory, but she'd stopped wallowing over it. Life went on. She kept busy, volunteered for an after school music program at the local elementary, focused on her studies, took up knitting, which she wasn't very good at. She'd even managed to have a casual conversation with Finnick the other day when they'd crossed paths on the quad, instead of running away from him like a startled rabbit. He seemed happy, so she was trying to be happy for him. After all, just because they'd broken up didn't mean she didn't care about him anymore.

"Of course I'll be okay," said Madge. "I think I'll finish that research paper for Lit, maybe watch some Parks and Rec, decapitate a giant teddy bear. You know, the usual."

"Well, if you get hungry, help yourself," said Katniss, gesturing at the baked goods and candies piled high on the table. "Some of it's for you, anyway. Peeta didn't want you to feel left out."

Madge smiled. Her roomie's boyfriend was sentimental, over-the-top, ridiculous, but he was a keeper for sure.

* * *

Gale hated Valentine's Day. He had a firm rule about no dates, no hooking up, no so much as talking to a girl for the full month of February. He'd made the mistake of taking Venia to the movies at the start of the month his sophomore year of high school and remembered clearly how she'd hounded him for two weeks afterwards about what they'd do for Valentine's Day. Girls got too clingy this time of the year. They wanted flowers, romance, commitment, all that shit. No thanks. He chose celibacy instead. It wasn't easy and it didn't put him in the best of moods.

Typically, he and Thom spent Valentine's Day getting wasted and making fun of all the sappy idiots who celebrated the stupid holiday, but this year Thom was one of the sappy idiots. He was taking his girlfriend of two weeks to some rom-com premiere.

"It's worth it," he'd told Gale. "She gives the best head. You don't even know, man. Like it's a religious experience. I feel close to God."

Gale accused him of being a sell-out. He'd teased him mercilessly for days, but that didn't stop Thom from ditching him at 7 o'clock sharp to pick up his date. Bristel was going to a light show with his boyfriend. Katniss had been roped into whatever gushy, girly evening Mellark had planned for her.

It was a Friday night. Gale was bored. He didn't want to be stuck at home alone, so he scrolled through his contacts again and again, desperate. Everyone he knew was going out tonight to make goo-goo eyes in the candlelight. Except Thresh, but he was out of town for a football game. Finally, he stopped at Madge Undersee's number. He had her listed as Princess Pain in the Ass. She wasn't going out tonight. He knew because Katniss had told him.

Left with no other options, Gale punched the call button before he had time to really consider what he was doing. Madge answered on the third ring. "You can't copy my Stats homework," she said in the way of hello. "Do it yourself."

"Already done," he said, a lie.

"Then what do you want?"

Gale picked at the frayed hem of his t-shirt. "Just wondering if you wanted to grab a drink or something." His words met staticky silence. After a full minute, Madge spoke.

"Please tell me you're not asking me on a date."

Gale made a retching sound. "Christ no," he said. "I'm bored, that's all."

"Not my problem," said Madge. "Besides, I can't get a drink with you. Not twenty-one yet, remember?"

"Oh right," said Gale. "We could do something else."

"No thanks, Hawthorne. I'm working on a paper. You'll have to entertain yourself tonight."

She hung up. Working on a paper? On a Friday night? On Valentine's Day? Undersee was depressingly pathetic. Then again, what did that make him, if he couldn't even get her to hang out with him?

* * *

Madge struggled to concentrate on her paper. The quiet of the hall made her anxious. She put on some classical music, but it failed to pacify her anxiety. She realized she'd read over the same paragraph of her essay three times. She couldn't think of anything more to say about post-modernism in American literature. Her mind was blank, so she picked up her copy of Mrs. Dalloway and flipped through the pages, glancing over the pink highlighted sections and her notes crammed in the margins, when she came to a folded square of paper tucked snuggly in the middle of the book.

Finnick used to sneak little surprise notes in her books and she'd been reading this one while they were still together. His neat handwriting leapt out at her. _Roses are red, your eyes are blue, meet me at midnight for a romantic rendezvous._ Madge slammed the book closed and threw it down on the empty couch cushion beside her. What was he doing right now? Where had he taken Annie for Valentine's Day? Had he left a note in one of her books telling her when and where to meet him?

She didn't want to think about it, she wasn't supposed to think about it, she couldn't help herself. _Violets are blue and he's through with you,_ she told herself. She was moving on with her life, but it was hard not to feel a bit lonely when she was surrounded by slowly deflating balloon hearts. She gave up on the essay. She turned off her laptop and was debating whether or not she should just go to sleep when someone knocked.

Madge opened the door and found Gale Hawthorne standing in the hall. "Since you can't go out to the bar, I brought the bar to you," he said, holding up a plastic bottle of Aristocrat vodka. There was a box of pizza balanced in his other hand. Her first instinct was to send him away, but the pizza smelled good and, frankly, she could use a some company, some distraction. Gale was an absolute horror, but he certainly was distracting. She stepped aside to let him in.

* * *

"Never have I ever…" Gale paused. He was running out of things he'd never done. _Never have I ever spent a Friday night alone with Madge Undersee._ At least not intentionally. Really, though, it wasn't so bad. Dare he admit that he was kind of, sort of, having fun pigging out on Katniss' Valentines chocolates, playing drinking games with Undersee, making fun of the giant teddy bear she was now straddling to cushion her rear from the concrete floor. As Friday nights went, he'd had better, he'd had worse. "Never have I ever worn a dress," he said.

"That's cheating," said Madge. Gale poured a liberal shot of Aristocrap (as Thom called it) into the coffee mug between them and nudged it towards her.

"Drink up, Undersee."

She grimaced as the cheap, burning liquor seared her throat. They weren't keeping score, but she knew she was losing. It wasn't a fair match. Gale's tolerance was much higher. Still, his face was flushed from the vodka, eyes bright, thoughts a little cloudy. As she pursed her lips in thought, he found himself staring mesmerized at the smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth.

"Never have I ever-" she hiccuped, "-had a one night stand."

Gale drank. She grinned at him smugly until he said, "Never have I ever kissed Finnick Odair." Madge looked down into the teddy bears empty black eyes, curled her hands around a fistful of synthetic fur, and Gale felt a slight prick of regret. Probably wasn't the best idea to bring up Odair tonight. He waited for her to burst into tears. Instead she tossed back her penalty shot, slammed down the mug a bit too hard, and lifted her eyes to him again.

"Never have I ever had a Valentine's date," she said.

"Me either," said Gale.

Madge narrowed her eyes in skepticism. "Yeah right," she said, hiccuping again.

"Yeah, that's right," said Gale, crossing his arms. "Too much effort involved. What's the point when I get laid a hell of a lot easier any other day of the year? Besides, Valentine's Day is just a Capitalist ploy to get people to buy a bunch of stupid crap." He reached out to flick the stuffed bear between the ears. "I don't have money to waste on dumbass teddy bears and girls get all pissy when you don't get them anything on V-Day."

"Not all girl's," said Madge. She chose a caramel nougat from the open box of chocolates between them and popped it into her mouth. "The candy's good, though, even if it is all part of a Capitalist ploy. Me and Katniss take full of advantage of the next-day discount. Guess we won't need to this year."

"Mellark's good for something, at least," said Gale, taking another chocolate as well. He chose at random, liking the surprise of not knowing what he'd end up with. Undersee, of course, was pickier. She took her time, read the back of the box like it was an instruction manual on how to assemble a rocket ship.

"Your turn," she said.

"Never have I ever lived in a mansion," said Gale.

"It's not a mansion," she muttered.

"Close enough," said Gale, shrugging. Madge drank again. She was definitely losing. Her face lit up when she finally thought of something he'd surely done, something just about everyone had done.

"Never have I ever ridden a bike," she said.

"Like a motorcycle?" said Gale. "I did that once. Still got the scar on my ass as proof. Wanna see?"

"No!" said Madge, horrified. "I mean a normal bike. You know, the kind without an engine."

"No way," said Gale, staring at her in amazement. "Now you're cheating. You can't lie, Undersee."

"I'm not," she said. "My parents never taught me. They were always….busy."

Gale studied her for a moment. She wasn't lying. She looked sad again. He took one last shot before jumping to his feet. "Alright then, come on," he said, holding out his hands to her. Madge's eyes narrowed, this time in suspicion.

"Where're we going?"

"You're nineteen years old," he said. "It's about damn time you learned how to ride a bike."

* * *

Katniss' Bianchi racing bike was a relic from the 1980s. He remembered the day she bought it at a garage sell back in middle school and didn't think she'd mind if they borrowed it now. She hardly ever used it anymore. The parking lot was almost completely deserted, no cars for Madge to crash into, no one around to laugh at her when she inevitably hit the pavement.

No one except for Gale Hawthorne.

"I don't know about this," she said, warily eyeing the bike.

"It's easy," said Gale. "Easy as riding a bike."

"You have to promise not to make fun of me," said Madge. "I mean it, Hawthorne."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said, lying. Of course he was going to make fun of her. That was the whole point of this. Well, part of the point. He also thought it was a shame she'd never experienced the thrill of speeding down a hill, the wind in her hair, going faster, and faster. Learning to ride a bike was an integral part of growing up.

"All aboard," he said, patting the worn leather seat. If she wasn't drunk, emboldened by cheap liquor, she would have turned tail and run. The fact that she didn't know how to ride a bike hadn't bothered her in a long time, but she remembered how it had felt as a kid, watching everyone else whiz past, teasing her for still needing training wheels. She didn't like not being the best at things. She was a perfectionist, after all.

Gale held the bike steady as she climbed clumsily onto the seat. He put his hand to her back when she worked up the courage to lift her feet, firmly planted against the ground, to the pedals.

"Don't you dare let go," she said, gripping the handlebars for dear life. "I swear to god I'll-"

"What? Run me over?" said Gale, pushing the bike along. Madge let out a startled squeak. Her feet were like two stones. "You gotta pedal, stupid. Doesn't work unless you do."

"I know that," she snapped.

"Then do it."

Madge tried. The chain was rusty and stiff from disuse. It took a minute for her to get her shaking legs under control. Gale wheeled her around in circles for awhile, amused by how her face puckered in concentration, like she was working on a particularly hard question on their Stats homework. Jesus Christ, she took everything way too seriously. Riding a bike, like walking, was all about instinct. Suddenly, she stopped pedaling when he moved to the top of the steep hill that led up from the road to the parking lot.

"What are you doing?" she said, glancing back at him, eyes wide with panic. Gale gave her a little push before letting go.

"Only way to learn," he called after her. "Keep pedaling!"

Madge didn't have much of a choice. The bike quickly picked up speed. She jerked the handles this way and that, the dark trees on either side of her rushing past, her heart pounding, the cool February air slapping her in the face. She screamed, half in horror and half in pure joy. For a moment, she thought she had it down, pedaling fast and hard, until she lost control and found herself flying through the air.

From the top of the hill, Gale watched her flip over the handlebars and land flat on her back. She didn't get up. "Madge!" he yelled, sprinting towards her, cursing himself for letting go too soon. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If she was hurt, then it was his fault. Katniss would kill him. When he reached Madge, he thought at first she was crying, but quickly realized the wild sound spilling from her open mouth was laughter.

Gale crouched down in front of her, worried she'd hit her head and gone totally batshit. "Madge, are you alright?" he said, grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. At the look of sheer terror on his face, she laughed even harder.

"You...you...let go," she gasped.

"I know, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"That was fucking awesome!" she said, shrugging her shoulders out from under his firm grip. "I want to try again."

Certain that she wasn't grievously wounded, though she'd scraped her chin and a thin line of blood trickled onto her shirt, which she seemed not to notice, Gale beamed back at her. She was like a child, a piss-ass drunk child, her cheeks flushed bright red, eyes gleaming with untempered delight, chocolate still smeared across her mouth.

"Alright," he said. "But you have to steer this time. Maybe we should find you a helmet first."

Madge waved off the suggestion. "Helmet's are for chumps," she said with yet another hiccup. Gale couldn't help laughing. Who knew Undersee was such a risk-taker?

"Whatever you say, Miss Tony Hawk," he said, still chuckling as he helped her to stand.

* * *

"Valentine's Day is over," said Katniss. "You didn't have to walk to me my room. It's like three floors."

"I know I didn't have to," said Peeta through a yawn. He could've slept in. It was Katniss, not him, who had an early morning archery practice to attend. "I wanted to."

Katniss wouldn't admit it, but she was happy he'd walked with her, even if it was just a short distance between his room and her's. Last night had gone better than she'd anticipated. No horse drawn carriage, no pay-by-the-hour minstrel in old timey clothes serenading them on the street. Instead Peeta had taken her to a wrestling match, plied her with her favorite greasy food, and then taken her back to his room for a wrestling match of their own.

"I just wanted to mess with you a little," he'd said in response to her complaints about his overload of Valentine's gifts. "I know you're not into all of that."

"I think I will keep the bear," she'd told him. "It'll make for good target practice."

Katniss stuck her key into the lock, only to find that the door was already opened. Strange. Madge was a stickler for locking the door. She always chided Katniss for forgetting to. Peeta followed her into the common room. They both stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Madge and Gale fast asleep on the floor, sharing the giant teddy bear as a pillow.

Peeta noted the dried blood on Madge's chin and the shredded knees of her pj pants. "Did they get into a fight or something?" he whispered. Katniss doubted it. She pointed to the half empty bottle of Aristocrat at their feet. Madge was a clumsy drunk. Peeta raised an eyebrow.

"I thought they hated each other."

"Nah," said Katniss, smiling slightly at her passed out friends. "They just think they do."

"Should we wake them up?" said Peeta.

"Let them sleep it off," said Katniss. She pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Peeta's mouth, before shooing him away, so she could get ready for archery. By the time she emerged from her room, bow slung across her back, Gale was up and trying to figure out how to work Madge's Keurig.

"Fucking thing," he grumbled, punching buttons. "What, is a normal coffee maker not good enough for Princess Undersee?" He cast a scathing glance at Madge, still unconscious, or so they'd thought.

"It's not complicated," she said, keeping her eyes closed. "You're just an idiot."

Katniss rolled her eyes at the pair of them. "You're both idiots," she said, making her way across the room, stepping over Madge's legs. The sound of their grumpy, hung-over bickering followed her down the hall. _Stubborn idiots clinging to a lifetime of denial._ But at least they were finally starting to figure things out.


	24. Three Cheers for the Home Team

**AN:** Sorry I haven't been updating my other stories. Just don't have the time or energy for more than these one-shots right now, but I haven't abandoned Incubate or Panem on Fire, so fret not. As always, thank you for your feedback :)

 **P.S.** Gale is such a bad influence, hehe.

* * *

 **JUNIOR YEAR (high school)**

Gale had come to the track meet to support Katniss. She'd kicked ass in the 60 meter long-distance. Big surprise. He lost interest by the 100 meter race. He'd seen Katniss run plenty of times. What he was more interested in now were the cheerleaders, using the track meet as practice for Friday's football game. Venia looked particularly appetizing at the top of the pyramid, but he made an effort to give each of the girls equal attention. His gaze wandered to a new member of the squad. Her back was turned to the stands, blonde ponytail bouncing, her pleated skirt flying up as she attempted a high kick. He caught a glimpse of bright blue spanks and leaned forward. She wasn't that great of a cheerleader, but damn, her ass had no competition.

"You're ogling Madge Undersee, you know?" said Bristel.

No way. Undersee wasn't a cheerleader. She wouldn't be caught dead jumping around in one of those teeny outfits. But then the girl turned around. Gale drew back in horror. He recognized Undersee's scowling face clear across the field.

"Holy shit," he said, tempted to claw his own eyeballs from his head. He felt sick to his stomach for checking out her ass just a few seconds ago.

"That's what you get for objectifying them," said Bristel.

"Right," said Gale, leaning back against the empty bleachers behind them. Track meets didn't exactly draw a crowd. "Like you didn't agree to come with me to check out number 3."

Bristel's cheeks turned red and it had nothing to do with the brisk Autumn air. He'd only come out last year to Gale and Thom. Neither of them were surprised to hear that their friend preferred boys to girls. They'd known since they were kids. After all, Bristel had always been more interested in male models than Victoria's Secret angels. He still hadn't told his family, but he'd have to soon if things got serious between him and #3 on the track team.

"That-" said Gale, gesturing to the cheerleaders, "-really doesn't do anything for you?"

"What, you mean Undersee?" said Bristel, grinning. "Nah man, you can have her."

Gale knocked him off of the bleacher. "Not funny," he grumbled.

"Bet Thom'll get a laugh out of it," said Bristel, picking himself up. Yeah, he probably would. Gale was never going to hear the end of this. He turned his full attention back to Katniss and the runners currently eating her dust, but that sneak peak of Undersee's spanks haunted him. He couldn't shake the image from his head, though he desperately wanted to.

* * *

Madge hated being a cheerleader. The other girls teased her mercilessly, whispered behind her back, called her Mayor Two Left Feet whenever their coach wasn't around. They were right, too. She had no coordination, couldn't even touch her toes, and now she'd sprained her ankle. To make matters worse, her car wouldn't start. She had tried calling her father, had even called Effie, and gotten nothing but voicemail. God only knew where they were, occupied with some important political business, or how long they'd be unavailable. Rather than ask one of her squad-mates for a ride, she decided to walk.

Five miles from home it began to rain. Wonderful. Just wonderful. She limped along the side of the road, her head bowed against the downpour, and cursed Effie Trinket. It had been Effie's idea for her to become a cheerleader. Everyone in town went to the football games, students and citizens alike, and Effie thought it was good publicity for Madge to be seen cheering on the home team. Except she did more falling than cheering. Wasn't it enough that she was captain of the debate team, top of her class, the most talented member of the high school orchestra? No, of course not, because those sorts of things didn't make the front page of the local newspaper.

Madge stumbled off of the shoulder of the road when a passing truck honked at her. She lost her footing on the slick pavement, tried to catch herself, and only managed to scrape the skin from her hands. Ankle throbbing, palms stinging, she watched the truck pull over. A tall, dark-headed boy climbed down from the cab and approached her. She wiped the rainwater from her eyes and stared up at Gale Hawthorne. This day kept getting better and better.

"You walking or working, Undersee?' he said.

"Shut up," she muttered, clambering to her feet. She hissed in pain under her own weight and shifted to relieve the pressure on her injured ankle. Gale glanced to her feet. She'd taken off her little, white tennis shoes. Really, she hadn't had a choice. Her ankle was swollen to the size of a tennis ball. It had turned a nasty shade of deep purple.

Madge tried to limp past him, but he side stepped to block her path. "Let me give you a ride," he said.

"Pass," she said, making another attempt to get around him.

"It's raining cats and dogs," he said, blocking her again. Madge snorted. As if she hadn't noticed. Her hair hung in wet clumps over her eyes. "Oh, come on," said Gale. "You can't walk five miles on that ankle. Don't make me do something drastic."

"Like what?" she said, shoving her hair back from her eyes to look at him, daring him to do whatever he had in mind. Gale answered by catching her around the waist and tossing her carelessly over his shoulder.

"Put me down, Hawthorne!" she screeched, beating her fists against his back.

"I like when you scream my name," he said, keeping a firm grip on her flailing legs. "Go on, do it again."

Madge went limp. She glowered at the pavement, cursing Effie harder than ever. It was all that woman's fault that she'd ended up here, being carried by Gale Hawthorne like a damsel in distress. More like a sack of potatoes, actually. First thing tomorrow, she was going to hand over her cheerleading uniform and quit the squad. She never should have joined in the first place.

* * *

They were stuck at the most notorious light in town. Despite the fact that there was hardly any traffic at this intersection, and no traffic whatsoever right now, the light remained a stubborn, spiteful red. Madge drummed her fingers against her knee. She hadn't spoken a single word since he dumped her into the passenger seat. You're welcome, thought Gale, staring fixedly at the light. He should have left her, let her limp all the way home, but no, that was going too far even for him.

He made the mistake of glancing over at her hand, still drumming, and got caught up on her legs. The skirt of her uniform was scandalously short. That's what he liked most about the cheerleaders' skirts, most of the time, but the sight of Madge Undersee in one of them made him feel, well, conflicted. She had nice legs. He gave her that much. They weren't particularly thin. There was good bit of meat on her lily white thighs and he was down with that. He liked having something to hold onto. Besides, plump thighs made for a great ass. Again he thought of the brief glimpse he'd gotten of her spanks, which led him to think of other things, like bending her over his knee and giving that round, little ass of her's a slap or two, and then yanking aside those bright blue spanks, so that he could…

"It's green," said Madge, interrupting his chain of thought, probably for the best. There was a patch of pink in both of her cheeks. She took a sweater from her backpack and draped it over her legs. It seemed his gaze hadn't been all that subtle. Driving on, she continued drumming her fingers on her grass stained knees.

"Why are you so wired?" he finally said.

"None of your business, pervert," she said. Yeah, she'd definitely noticed him looking. After a few more minutes of the damned drumming, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Seriously, Undersee, you've got to chill." He reached over her to open the glove box, fished around for a second, before taking out a joint and holding it out to her. Madge wrinkled her nose at the offering. "It won't kill you," he said.

She wanted to refuse, knew that she should, had never been interested in getting high under the beacher with Hawthorne and his lot before, and yet for some reason she took the joint, held it awkwardly between her thumb and forefinger. Gale tossed a lighter into her lap. He didn't really expect her to make use of it, thought it might be fun to watch her squirm like the good girl she was, but then he heard the lighter click, saw a flicker of flame from the corner of his eye. Next thing he knew Madge Undersee was coughing up a cloud of smoke.

"My dad's getting married," she blurted out once she caught her breath. Why she was telling this to Gale Hawthorne was beyond her. Maybe it was simply because he was here and she needed to tell someone. "To his campaign manager," she went on. "I hate her. She's the one who made me join the cheerleading squad."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," said Gale, unsure how else to respond to her sudden and unexpected confession. He ran a hand through his damp hair. "Shit sucks, Undersee."

She supposed that was as much comfort she could expect from him. In fact, those two words, shit sucks, was far more than she'd expected. Those two words were entirely accurate. They summed up everything.

"Give me that," said Gale, reaching for the joint.

"You're driving," she said, her tone back to its normal stuffiness. Gale plucked the joint from her fingers and took a big hit, needing something to alleviate the awkward heaviness between them. He felt more than a little gross about having a hard-on while she was opening up to him about her family problems for whatever reason.

"Don't worry," said Gale, letting out the smoke. "If we get pulled over, I'll just tell them it was your idea. No one's going to take the mayor's daughter to jail?"

"No, but they'll tell my dad," said Madge. She immediately regretted taking the joint. Her head felt funny and, oh god, if they were pulled over, if her dad found out that she was getting high alone with a boy in his car, if…

"He didn't ask if you wanted an evil stepmother, right?" said Gale.

"No, he didn't," said Madge. Her father never asked her opinion on anything.

"Then screw him. Be a little rebellious for once in your life, Undersee."

Gale offered the joint to her again and, for once in his life, he'd given her some decent advice.

* * *

Gale's truck idled in the Undersee's paved driveway. He examined the greco-roman statues dotting the manicured front lawn by the beam of his headlights. "How much those statues cost you?" he said.

Madge shrugged. She didn't have a clue. They were a recent addition of Effie's. She'd already begun to redecorate, though she'd yet to move in. She'd taken down the watercolor landscapes in the front hall, which Madge's mother had hung years ago, and banished them to the attic, to gather dust, to be forgotten. The statues were tacky. Effie Trinket was tacky.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," said Gale, looking to the the dark windows of the mayor's mansion. Wherever her father and Effie were, they obviously weren't back yet. Madge was slightly disappointed. She'd almost hoped her father would be home, that he'd take one look at her red eyes, smell the weed on her clothes, and punish her for her act of rebellion. She wanted him to be there to send her to room and then later bring up an icepack for her sprained ankle. The things a father was supposed to do.

"So, uh, you gonna get out or what?" said Gale.

"Yeah," said Madge, but she still didn't move to unbuckle her seat belt.

"I hope you're not waiting for me to carry you to the door, Princess," said Gale. "Because that was a one time thing."

"Good." Madge pulled herself together and shouldered open the passenger door. "Thanks for the ride, I guess," she said.

"You owe me for the gas," said Gale. "And the smoke out."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," she said, closing the door behind her. Gale watched her limp up the walkway, allowing himself one last look at her ass, the way her short skirt clung to the back of her wet thighs, until she disappeared into the dark, empty house.

 _Get a grip_ , he told himself, backing out of the drive. _It's Undersee for fuck sake_. He much preferred not knowing what she kept hidden under those loose sweaters and baggy mom jeans she usually wore. He had already shoved her confession about her father's remarrying to the back of his mind, because it was bad enough he was going to jerk off thinking about her as soon as he got home. Objectifying her was one thing. Giving a shit about her personal life, though, was where he drew the line.


	25. Cravings

**AN:** Smut, smut, smutty, smut ;)

* * *

 **Early Thirties**

After three months of couple's therapy, Gale sublet his apartment for the remainder of the year long lease. Madge had finally agreed to let him move back in. The one bedroom apartment with its conjoined kitchen and living room and stained carpet had never felt much like home. He was ready to return to his real home, the two story farm house he and Madge had bought and fixed up together four years ago. He whistled cheerfully as he loaded the last of his boxes into the back of his Ford pick-up.

"You're in a good mood," said Thom, leaning against the truck.

"Why shouldn't I be?" said Gale. He and Madge were doing better than they had been in over a year, no more lengthy stretches of giving each other the silent treatment, followed by earth shattering blow outs, no more cold shoulders, broken dishes, saying things to each other that later stifled the air with regret. He'd just been promoted at his engineering firm, which was good, because they'd need the extra money when the baby came. Everything was falling into place. For the first time in a long time, he was happy, over-the-moon ecstatic, on track and heading in the right direction. Saving their marriage from the pits of despair hadn't been easy by any means, but the work they'd both put into counselling, into each other, was worth the result.

"You sure you're ready to live together again?" said Thom.

"Yeah, we're ready," said Gale. "Sorry, man, I know you were looking to swoop in become the next Mr. Undersee, but you're just gonna have to find your own wife."

"I'm being serious," said Thom. He took one end of the bungee cord in Gale's hands and walked around the truck to hook it in.

"That's a first," said Gale, securing the cord, tautly stretched over his boxes, to the other side.

"I'm glad you've worked things out," said Thom. "I just hope you're not moving too fast because of the pregnancy and all. Maybe you've forgotten how bad it was towards the end, now that you're all caught up in the second honeymoon phase, but I haven't."

Gale had not forgotten. Not one bit. How could he? His knuckles were scarred from punching the wall last summer, the night he walked out, called it quits, almost put a hole in his wife's face instead of the drywall. It still terrified him to remember how enraged he'd been in that moment, but apart from the marriage counselling, he'd enrolled in an anger management class. He hated it. He hated the thought of hurting Madge more. Besides, she was seeing someone about her depression, had finally agreed to take the necessary medication, and owned up to the reality that her family's hereditary mental illness wasn't something she could ignore, something that would get better on its own. They were each doing their part. They were ready for this step.

Anyways, in the past month he'd spent more nights at the house than his town apartment. Most of his clothes were already there. They still weren't having sex, he usually slept in the downstairs guest room unless they fell asleep watching t.v., but they made out. A lot. A whole lot. Thom said they were in the midst of a second honeymoon period, when really it was more like they were experiencing the high school sweethearts phase they'd missed out on when they'd been actual teenagers. The physical aspect of their relationship had gone from nothing to everything without the build up in between. He liked the in-between stuff, though he'd be lying if he said it didn't kill him a little every time they started getting heavy and she hit the pause button. He never complained, out loud. Learning patience was a big chunk of his anger management.

"I appreciate the concern," said Gale. He tossed his water bottle to Thom. "But me and Madge are good. Really good. We've got this."

"You better," said Thom. "Because if you break her heart, I'll break you."

"Thought you were supposed to be on my side," said Gale.

Thom looked at him sternly and said, "You've been my best friend since pre-school, my brother, and you know I've got your back, whether you're in the right or the wrong, except with Madge. If you two ever do get divorced, she gets custody of me."

Gale put his hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I'm sure she'd be thrilled at having two babies to look after," he said. "She'd probably put you up for adoption and don't expect me to rescue you from the foster care system."

"Nah, she wouldn't do that me," said Thom. His fleeting seriousness gave way to the crooked grin Gale had known since they were kids. "She loves me too much. I am her firstborn, after all."

"Yeah, thirty five years old and you still can't wipe your own ass."

Thom chucked the water bottle at Gale's head. He ducked just in time.

* * *

Madge was starving by the time she got off work. The whole forty-five minute drive home, she thought about food. Lately she'd been putting Tabasco sauce on everything. Literally. Yesterday Peeta nearly had a heart attack when she slathered one of his precious homemade banana nut muffins with a few of the hot sauce packets she kept in her purse. Before the spicy cravings, she'd been all about spaghetti with maple syrup, and the week before that it'd been doritos dipped in clam chowder. She'd even been struck by a strong desire to try the bubbly, pink dish soap, but had managed to refrain from that particular craving. Though she had snuck a spoonful of wet cat food (chicken pate) at the Everdeens Thanksgiving get-together awhile back. She wasn't proud.

When she pulled up to the house, however, the sight of Gale's faded blue pick-up in the driveway momentarily wiped all thoughts of food from her mind. He was home, officially, permanently. She'd lived alone in their house for so long that she felt an odd flutter of nervous excitement. Or maybe it was just nausea, or heartburn, or the result of having been constipated for three solid months. The baby stirred as if aware that something had changed. In fact, the baby always seemed to move a lot more whenever Gale was around. She joked that her son or daughter already had the nose of a bloodhound and could smell its father from a mile away.

Madge stepped through the front door and found the hall cluttered with cardboard boxes. She heard Gale's heavy footsteps upstairs. The creak of floorboards, once so familiar, seemed out of place now. Wanting a few more minutes to wrap her head around his presence, she didn't announce herself, wove through the maze of boxes, and headed straight for the kitchen. She riffled through the fridge, uncovered the jar of jalapenos she'd been searching for, and grabbed a few slices of American cheese as an afterthought.

By the time Gale descended the stairs, she was popping jalapenos wrapped in cheese, with a drizzle of dijon mustard holding it all together, into her mouth one after the other. "That's disgusting," he said, making a face at her. Madge licked a fleck of mustard from the corner of her mouth. Her gaze travelled over her husband, from his black hair sticking up on end, down his bare chest glistening with sweat from hauling boxes all day, to his denim clad thighs, all the way to his feet. A hot flash came over her. She yanked her sweater over her head and tossed it carelessly onto the counter, fanned her flushed face with both hands, blamed the sudden heat on the jalapenos though she'd been fine a few minutes ago.

Lately, too, she'd had...other cravings. They were still weird. Just last night she'd had an intimate dream involving Mike Tyson, Richard Gere, and an eggplant. Katniss had laughed for a solid twenty minutes when Madge called to confess her nighttime foray. When she wasn't hungry, she was horny, and when she wasn't horny, she was hungry, and when she wasn't horny she was weepy, and sometimes she was all three. The nuances of pregnancy never failed to surprise her. Right now, though, watching Gale dip his head under the kitchen faucet, rivulets of cold water trickling down the back of his neck, she was just horny.

Gale grinned when he caught her staring, a jalapeno raised to her lips and forgotten about. "You better move those boxes before I trip over one," she said, hoping she'd successfully masked the strain of desperate longing in her voice, hoping he couldn't read the thoughts blazing behind her eyes, how much she wanted to rip off those damned jeans of his and lap up the sweat from the hollow between his collarbones. Gross, she told herself, stop that.

"Sorry about that," he said, towelling off his hair with a dishcloth. "I got sidetracked working in the nursery. I'll finish unpacking after dinner." He turned around, lifted his arms to open one of the top cabinets, the muscles in his back rippling under his deliciously tanned skin. Madge was just about drooling at this point. "What do you want?" he said.

You, she almost blurted, all of you, right now, right here, on the kitchen floor. "Spaghetti," she said instead.

Gale smiled over his shoulder at her. "Maple syrup or boring, old marinara?"

"Sriracha," she said. "Gallons of it, please." Then she fled the room. As the old saying went, if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen, and she was burning up. She needed a long, cold shower.

* * *

Over dinner, they followed their therapist's orders, telling each other about their day in minute detail. As Madge recounted one of her students' mishaps with an oboe (which he'd somehow gotten stuck in his nose), she was distracted by the way Gale ate, slurping up his pasta noodles like a kid. It was rude, kind of repulsive, ridiculously sexy. Goddamn him.

She didn't want to have sex yet. Well, she wanted to. So, so bad. But it was too soon. He had only moved back in a few hours ago. One step at a time, that's what their therapist prescribed. Today was a huge step. They shouldn't push it. Best to hold off until they settled into living together full time again. Madge stared hard at her plate. As long as she didn't look at him, everything was fine. At least that was the idea, but she still heard him slurping noodles, sensed him sitting mere feet away.

"Earth to Margaret," he said. "You listening?"

"What?" she said.

"I asked how you got the oboe out of the kid's nose."

"Right, um…" She risked a quick glance at him, a mistake, forgot how to speak for a second, and then shook her head. "Very carefully. It was stuck in there pretty deep."

"Oh yeah?" said Gale, his smirk suggestive, one eyebrow cocked high. "How deep?"

Madge choked on a mouthful of pasta. Goddamn him, indeed.

* * *

His boxes were unpacked, his work boots by the front door where they belonged (so he believed, though Madge disagreed), and his toothbrush beside her's in the ceramic cup on the bathroom sink. He was home and he didn't plan on ever leaving again. Blowing on a cup of hot chamomile tea, he stepped out onto the front porch he'd built board by board with Thom and Rory's help. Summer was coming, but it was still too chilly at night for the cicadas to come out and sing.

Madge was sitting in her favorite rocking chair, gazing across the dark yard, which was long overdue for a trim. He paused a moment to admire her. There was definitely no hiding the pregnancy now. At six months along, her stomach swelled like a balloon tucked under her t-shirt. He'd never seen anything more beautiful than his wife in her maternity sweatpants, hair piled on top of her head, wispy blonde curls framing her peaceful face, cradling his unborn child. Gale passed her the cup of tea, before perching on the porch rail opposite her. Their first couple of years living in this house, they'd kept the same nightly routine, sitting on the porch together before bed, Madge with her tea and him with his guitar, until everything fell apart.

He hadn't played since they separated, even before that, and he was looking to forward to starting up again, getting in some practice, so that he could teach their son or daughter as soon as they were old enough. Tonight, however, Gale had left his guitar in its case upstairs. He didn't want anything to distract him from Madge.

"How do you feel?" he said after a few minutes more. She took a sip of her tea before answering.

"It's still kind of weird," she said. Then she met his gaze. "Good weird, though. I never really got used to you not being here. What about you? Missing your bachelor pad yet?"

"Not one bit."

Madge rose from the rocking chair. She set her mug on the railing to wrap her arms around his waist. Smiling softly, almost shyly, she kissed the corner of his mouth. Being close to him, having him here where he belonged, she realized she hadn't felt quite whole since he'd left. She didn't care at the moment about taking things one step at a time. They'd never done anything in the right order, always moving backwards, letting their feelings for each other cloud their judgment. Sure, they had problems, but she wasn't worried anymore. She and Gale had always had problems. Yet here they were, together, a family, home.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand and leading him back inside. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

Madge felt a pinch self-conscious without her clothes. She glanced down at her bulging belly, red stretch marks like she'd been clawed by a feral animal, and the mild rash around her popped out belly button. It'd been a long time since anyone had seen her completely naked. Would Gale still want her as much as she wanted him?

"Well?" she said, daring to look back up at him.

Gale was at a loss for words. He gaped at her, desperate to touch her, but a little afraid to, a little nervous. Finally, he found his voice again. "You're so fucking beautiful, sexy...perfect."

Madge threw back her head and laughed. The sight was too much to resist. He went to her, kissed her like a drowning man, put his hands on her marvellous body, skin to skin for the first time in months. She shivered at the touch, sighed into his mouth. Their hands roamed, reacquainting, remembering.

It took awhile of clumsy fumbling, breathy laughter, frustrated groans, before they found a position that accommodated her pregnant belly. Gale was careful not to put an ounce of weight on her. She was already carrying more than enough. He watched her face closely as he moved in and out, slow, thoughtful, patient. It was almost like the first time, only her stomach was proof of the opposite. As she came, she reached for his hand, their fingers locked together, inseparable. He wouldn't lose her again, not ever, because his life was empty without her.

Sweaty, exhausted, he collapsed beside her, the woman he'd married eight years ago and wanted to marry again and again, every day until he died. He was overcome with happiness, here in his bed, holding his wife, their unborn child cradled between them.

"Perfect," he murmured. Madge nestled her face against his shoulder. That night, she slept better than she had in months, knowing that he was there, that he would always be there.


	26. Commitments

**AN:** Sorry y'all, but the title of this story is "It's Complicated" for a reason...

* * *

 **Early Twenties**

Madge was still clutching her phone, though she'd ended her call with the conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra over an hour ago. She had asked for some time to consider his offer. "I understand that this is a big commitment," he said, "but we will need your answer by the end of the week" It was Tuesday. She had two and half days to make the biggest decision of her life. She was hyperventilating.

She had auditioned for the Philharmonic six months ago and she'd been turned down. The disappointment had been a crushing blow, but Gale proposed soon after and the failure of her life's dream was shunted to back of her mind, replaced by a future she'd never envisioned for herself, but one that she was just as elated by. She'd taken another job as an elementary school music teacher in her hometown, where she and Gale planned to move at the end of the year, after the wedding, which was less than a month away. She was eager to begin the next phase of her life. She was certain about the decisions she and Gale had made.

But now, after the unexpected phone call, everything that had been settled was thrown into disarray. The Orchestra's first choice had backed out at the last minute. Madge was runner-up for the position. To play with the Philharmonic had been her dream since her parents took her to their Christmas concert at Lincoln Hall when she was just eight years old. It was the goal she'd been working towards since she struck her first chord on the piano. So many years of hard work, stiff fingers, dedication, and sacrificing any semblance of a social life to practice every spare minute, was finally paying off. She wanted to jump up and down, shout her joy from the rooftop, call everyone she knew, everyone she'd ever met, even just in passing, to tell them that she was going to be a pianist with the Philharmonic.

She also wanted to puke, because the person she wanted to share the news with most of all was the one person she couldn't tell. She couldn't ask Gale to drop everything and move so far away from his family. Not now, not when his mother was battling stage three breast cancer. He was already living at home, taking care of his siblings and the household, providing the main source of income. Madge spent every weekend with the Hawthornes. The two hour commute was a strain. Ten hours would break them.

The decision she had to make in two and half days was impossible. How was she supposed to chose between her lifelong dream and the love of her life?

* * *

Katniss hadn't spoken for a solid twenty minutes. Madge shredded her napkin. Neither of them had taken a bite of their food. When their waiter came to top off their water, he glowered at the pile of paper flakes beside Madge's plate. She dropped her hands into her lap and twisted the hem of her shirt instead. "Well?" she said.

Katniss pursed her lips. After another minutes, she said, "You know that story about the two women fighting over a baby and the king tells them to cut it in half?"

"Are you suggesting I cut Gale in half?" said Madge.

"Just an idea," said Katniss. Madge gave her a _you're not helping_ look. "Sorry, I don't know what to tell you. That's all I've got."

"I should've called Peeta," said Madge.

"He'd just tell you some crap about listening to your heart," said Katniss. "But that's the problem, isn't it? Your heart's telling you two different things."

Yes, that was the problem. Madge brushed the pile of flakes into her palm and dumped them onto her plate. She wasn't hungry. She hadn't really expected Katniss to have a satisfactory solution. Maybe cutting Gale in half was the only way. Which half would she take, though? Thinking about whether she wanted to keep her fiance's head or his cute, little tush was stupid. She had a real decision to make and time was ticking. Her parents weren't religious, but she'd taken a Bible History course her freshman year, and she remembered that King Solomon had been some kind of genius problem solver. Too bad he'd been dead for hundreds of years. Fat load of good his wisdom was to her now.

"You're just going to have to talk it out with Gale," said Katniss.

"Yeah," said Madge, frowning at her cold meatball sub. She wasn't looking forward to that particular conversation. "What would you do? If you had to choose between Peeta and your dream job?"

"I'd take his bottom half," said Katniss. "That way I wouldn't have to listen to him sing Broadway showtunes in the shower. Although, knowing him, he'd probably learn to sing out of his ass."

Madge laughed. For a second, her situation didn't weigh quite as heavily with the mental image of Peeta's butcheeks belting out an accapella version of La Vie Boheme.

* * *

The school bus would be here any second now. Gale banged on the bathroom door. "Posy Ann Hawthorne, get your butt out here right now," he said. This was her third and final warning. If she didn't unlock the door, he meant to break it down. "I'm serious, Posy."

The door opened a crack. He nudged it the rest of the way with the toe of his boot and reeled at the sight of his little sister. "What the…?" he trailed off, lost for words. Black mascara tears streaked her cheeks. Heavy swatches of violet eyeshadow reached all the way to her brows. It looked like she'd tried to give herself the sort of wingtip liner look that Madge sometimes used, but shaky black lines snaked almost to her ears. Blood red lipstick smudged her pouty, trembling lips.

"I wanted to look pretty for picture day," she said, "but I c...c...can't get it right."

Fuck, picture day. Gale had completely forgotten. There was too much to keep track of. Between work, and shuttling his mother back and forth to her doctor's appointments, and trying to keep the house from falling into utter decay, and making sure everyone was fed, there were times when the stress of it all made him forget his own name. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. Right now he had to make sure that Posy didn't go to school looking like a drunk prostitute.

"It's okay, Pose," he said, forcing himself to sound calm, though he was a breath away from cracking up. "Go wash that stuff off your face. You're pretty just the way you are."

"But the bus," she said, still sniffling. Gale turned her around by her shoulders and gave her a little push back into the bathroom.

"I'll take you to school," he said. "Try to hurry, please."

On his way to the kitchen, he called his boss to let him know that he'd be late for work...again. He only half-listened to the lecture he had memorized by now. Irresponsible behavior, blah, blah, won't tolerate this sort of thing much longer, blah, get your shit together, Hawthorne, blah, blah, blah. Just as he hung up, a yellow school bus rumbled to a stop at the end of the dirt driveway. It waited for less than a minute before continuing on and he watched it disappear around the corner.

Gale slumped against the counter. He closed his eyes against the sink full of dirty dishes, the smelly towel shoved under the refrigerator which had begun to leak about a week ago, and the overflowing trashcan. The rest of the house wasn't in much better shape. He couldn't remember when he'd showered last. He'd been wearing the same pair of pants, which he also slept in when he was able to sleep, for three days now. He wanted to stop moving, stop fretting, stop everything for just a moment, but he couldn't. There was so much that needed to be done and time kept slipping through his fingers.

Eyes still closed, he summoned Madge's image. Thinking about her was like a taking a sedative. It was the only successful tactic to bring him down when his blood pressure skyrocketed. He lived for the weekends when she visited. They never came quickly enough. If it wasn't for her, he wasn't sure he could survive this.

When Gale opened his eyes, Madge's image didn't fade. He blinked once, twice, and she was still there. He was certain he'd finally gone crazy until she spoke. "Hey there," she said, her voice marvelously real. Just to be one hundred percent sure that she was really here, Gale crossed the room in three quick strides and threw his arms around her.

"What are you doing here?" he said, squeezing her hard against him. "It's only Wednesday." Or was it? Fucking hell, had he missed a whole day? If so, he wouldn't be surprised.

"I decided to come early," she said, tipping back her head to look at his face. Her hands were locked together over the small of his back. He'd lost weight and that worried her. "There's something I need to talk to you about. It's-"

"Madge!" cried Posy. Reluctantly, Gale let go of his fiance, so that his little sister could take his place. She flung herself at Madge.

"Shouldn't you be on that bus I just saw drive by?" said Madge.

"Yeah, she should," said Gale, dropping back into the real world. They needed to get a move on. "We hit a little speed bump this morning."

"Go on to work," said Madge. "I'll take her to school."

Gale opened his mouth to protest. She'd just driven two hours to get here and he knew how she hated being behind the wheel for an extended period of time. Madge gave him a quick kiss on the lips before he could utter a sound. "Go," she said, shooing him towards the door. He paused on the threshold, one foot outside and one foot in.

"What would I do without you?" he said. She smiled at him and he tucked that smile away to get himself through the long day ahead.

"Fall to pieces," she said. She didn't know how right she was.

* * *

Posy told Madge all about her make-up disaster on the way to school.

"Alright, you want to tell me what this morning was really about, " said Madge, looking at the girl in the rearview mirror while they waited at a stoplight. "Because last week you said you didn't even want to get your picture taken. That it was stupid Gale was making you, when he could just take pictures of you for free."

Posy fidgeted in the backseat. Her eyes dropped to her lap. "There's this boy in class," she muttered, as morose as a ten year old could be. "He says I'm ugly, calls me Grossy Posy, and now he's got everyone else doing it."

"Ah," said Madge. She remembered quite well how cruel children could be. She'd come home in tears nearly every day in fifth grade because of something Octavia said to her. "Why didn't you tell Gale?"

"He's always so busy," said Posy. "And grumpy. He yells a lot more than he used to."

"He doesn't mean to," said Madge. "It's just he's got-"

"I know," said Posy. "I didn't want to bother him and I can't tell Ma, because she's supposed to be resting all the time. I thought I could make myself pretty and the problem would go away, but I messed it all up. Now I'll be Grossy Posy forever."

Madge wanted to reach behind her and hug the littlest Hawthorne, but the light turned green and the car behind them honked for her to get a move on. She zipped through the intersection. "Forever is a long time. Things change. You know what your brother used to call me? The Ugly Duckling."

"Really?" said Posy.

Madge smiled. Well, actually it was Thom who started the nickname and neither of them had used it her to face. Gale had only told her about it a few years ago. "Yeah," she said. "Really."

"But you're marrying him," said Posy.

"Yup, sure am. Like I said, things change." Madge turned in at the elementary school. She left the car running in park and turned around to look at Posy. "Boys are dumb. They don't get any smarter until they're much, much older, and then they can still be pretty dumb most of the time. Don't listen them. You're beautiful, Posy."

"Not like you," she said.

"No, not like me. Like you. You are your own special kind of pretty," said Madge. Posy gave her a tentative smile. "Especially when you smile. I always wanted dimples like yours."

"Rory calls them smile pimples," said Posy.

"Rory's still a dumb boy," said Madge.

"He is. I don't think he'll ever grow out of it," said Posy, grinning wide now. Madge chuckled. There were times, like now, when she saw a streak of Gale in the sassy little girl. She punched the child lock button to let Posy out.

"Get on in there," she said. "And if anyone calls you mean names, you just smile at them and walk on."

"Thanks," said Posy, shouldering open the door. "I'm glad we're going to be sisters soon."

Madge watched her hurry the short distant from the drop-off lane to the front doors, her sparkly purple backpack bouncing with each step. Posy was much tougher than Madge had been at that age. Having three older brothers made it impossible not to be. She was going to be just fine. Still, as Madge left the elementary school behind, thinking about the last thing Posy had said, her heart was heavy. If she moved to New York, she wouldn't just be leaving Gale. She'd be giving up a little sister, and Rory, and Hazelle. She'd be giving up the only real family she'd ever had.

Was it worth it?

* * *

It was late by the time Gale came home. Though he was exhausted, starving, his back aching from a long day of being hunched over in the mines, he practically ran from his truck to the house, knowing that Madge was waiting for him inside. He strode through the front door and froze. This was not the house he'd left earlier that day. There were no more mismatched shoes scattered about the living room, no dirty dishes stacked on the coffee table, not a single stain in the old carpet. Everything was spotless, glimmering, clean. The lemony smell of Pledge and freshly laundered clothes washed over him.

Madge appeared from the other side of the room. Her frizzy hair was thrown up into a messy ponytail and she was wearing a pair of soapy rubber gloves. "Take off your boots," she said. "I don't want you tracking coal all over the floor."

"Yes, ma'am," said Gale, smirking at her. He hurriedly kicked off his boots and rushed towards her. Holding her close, he breathed in her scent. She smelled like the house, like cleaning chemicals, and it wasn't hard to guess what she'd been doing all day.

"You're not our housekeeper, you know," he said, nuzzling his nose against the top of her head.

"I know," she said. "You don't pay me."

"Sorry, kind of broke right now," said Gale. His hands slid down her back and she arched into him. An instinct she couldn't help and didn't want to. "But I can pay you another way."

Madge wriggled free of his hold. She eyed him from head to toe. "You're filthy," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"So are you," said Gale. He tugged on her t-shirt, which was damp from washing dishes and now smudged with coal dust from his embrace. He raised his eyes back to her's and cocked his head to the side. "Shower?"

"Rory's in there," she said.

"Not for much longer, he isn't," said Gale, already marching off towards the bathroom. A second later, Madge him heard yell, "Stop jerking off in there, you little shit." She muffled a giggle in her hands. There was never a dull or quiet moment in this house. The Hawthornes were absolutely crazy and she loved them.

* * *

Within seconds, the floor of the bathtub turned black. Gale watched the coal dust swirl down the drain. He hated the mines. Not only was the work itself agonizing, but while he was down there he couldn't stop thinking about his father, trapped and suffocating. The money was too good to pass up, though, and his mother's hospital bills kept rolling in. Madge, of course, had offered to help with expenses and he had finally caved enough to let her chip in on the electric and water. He knew she was dipping into her trust fund, but when he had tried to explain that it wasn't her responsibility to provide for his family, she refused to listen. "Your family is my family," she'd said. "When I agreed to marry you, I knew I'd be marrying them too." He couldn't really argue with that.

As he vigorously scrubbed the coal dust from his skin, he listened to Madge's retelling of Posy's make-over fiasco. "Grossy Posy," he grumbled. "I'll kill that little punk."

"You can't beat up a ten year old," Madge reminded him from the other side of the curtain.

"Wanna bet?"

"Fine, go ahead," said Madge. She drew back the curtain, stepped into the tub, and snatched the washcloth from his hands. He turned around, facing the hot spray from the shower head, to let her get the parts of his back that were hard to reach. "Just pray they send you to a prison that allows conjugal visits," she said.

Gale made a noncommittal grunting sound. He closed his eyes. His anger with the snot-nosed 5th grader, along with everything else, spiralled down the drain as Madge's hands swept over his back. He never wanted to leave this moment. He wanted to wrap himself up in it forever, but the world outside of the warm, foggy shower kept crowding in on him.

"I wish she had told me," he said. "I feel like I'm letting her down."

Madge's hands froze. A moment later, she wrapped her arms around her, pressing her cheek to his back. "Posy knows she can come to you if she really needs to," she said. "You're too hard on yourself, Gale. No one thinks you're letting anyone down except for you. Relax a little. You've earned it."

Gale turned around with a sigh. She was right. She almost always was. He tucked her damp hair behind her ears and let his hands linger at her neck. "You still haven't told me why you came early," he said. Madge gazed up at him. He looked so tired, so worn, so overwhelmed. She couldn't tell him about New York, not now.

"Later," she said, pushing up onto her toes to kiss him.

* * *

Gale fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed. By the time Madge finished up in the bathroom, he was snoring. She pulled the covers over him, kissed his forehead, and tiptoed back out of the room. She was tired, too, but knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, not with her thoughts racing 100 miles an hour. She went to the kitchen, thinking to make herself a cup of tea, and was surprised to find Ms. Hawthorne sitting at the table.

"You should be in bed," said Madge.

"So should you," said Ms. Hawthorne. Madge frowned at her, but said nothing more. It was still a shock to see Hazelle this way. She'd always appeared so sturdy, an imposing figure. The chemo had taken it's toll. Her body was shrunken, almost skeletal, and she looked like a child in her father's bathrobe. She wasn't wearing her headscarf. Her thick, black hair, which Gale had inherited from her, was all gone.

"I always wanted to chop all my hair off," she said, running a hand over her bald scalp. "During my punk phase."

"Punk phase?" said Madge, sitting down across from her future mother-in-law, forgetting about her cup of tea.

"I was an anarchist before it was cool," said Hazelle. She smiled and Madge was glad to see that some things hadn't changed. Even though her body had been ravaged by poison, Hazelle Hawthorne was still a force to be reckoned with. Her smile was the same as ever. She was, and had always been, a fighter.

"I'd like to hear more about that," said Madge, smiling back at her.

"You will," said Hazelle. "But not right now. Tonight you're going to tell me what's on your mind."

"Nothing," said Madge, a knee jerk reaction. Hazelle was tough, but still, Madge didn't want to trouble her. The woman had enough drama in her life at the moment. She didn't need anymore.

"Don't lie to me, kiddo," said Hazelle, eyeing Madge sternly. "I've got three boys, remember? Between Gale and Rory, I've had to be more of a detective than a mother."

"It's really nothing," said Madge. Hazelle just stared at her, waiting for her to spill the beans, giving her that look Gale always talked about, the one that had gotten him to confess about every petty crime or misdeed he'd ever committed. After a few seconds, the truth came spilling out of Madge against her will. "The Philharmonic wants me. I'm supposed to give them my answer on Friday."

"I knew those fancy pants made a mistake when they turned you down," said Hazelle. "That's wonderful news!"

"I'd have to move to New York," said Madge. She didn't return her future mother-in-law's smile this time. Instead she stared morosely at the scarred table top.

"So what?" said Hazelle.

"The wedding," muttered Madge.

Hazelle batted at the air as if literally brushing off the wedding. "You can get married any old time," she said. "How many chances will you have to play for the New York Philharmonic? Don't answer, I'll tell you. You get this one chance most likely."

Madge sighed. She tore her eyes away from the table to look at her future mother-in-law. She tried to speak, but thought she might break down into sobs if she opened her mouth. That was the thing about Hazelle, though. She didn't need to hear what all Madge was thinking. She already knew, because true to her words, she was the best detective there never was.

"You haven't told Gale," she said.

"I can't," said Madge, her voice flat and heavy.

"You have to."

Madge shook her head. No, she didn't have to. Leaving him was not an option. She would call the Philharmonic first thing in the morning, tell them thanks, but no thanks, find someone else. She and Gale had decided to write their own vows. It was the one part of the ceremony they wanted to belong entirely to themselves. Madge had been agonizing over her's for a month. Her journal was full of half-finished drafts, like she was working on the next great American novel and not a three minute speech, but there was one line that always stayed the same. I commit myself to you, I will be your partner, I will shoulder your burdens and celebrate your victories. Though she hadn't spoken those exact words, with all of their friends and family as witnesses, it was a vow she made to Gale Hawthorne a thousand times over, every day, in a thousand little ways.

"I'm not going," said Madge. "I'm staying here. Everything's already settled."

Hazelle chuckled. "You're both so young," she said. "Nothing's settled. It's not supposed to be. If staying is really what you want to do, if it's what will make you happy, then stay, but not because you feel that you have to."

"But-"

"But nothing," said Hazelle. She reached across the table and took Madge's hand. "We'll be fine. Don't let us, don't let anything, come between you and your dreams. You have to make the choice that's right for you, otherwise you'll resent him someday, years from now when the honeymoon is long over and storms are brewing."

Madge used her free hand to wipe away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes before they spilled over. "I love you all so much," she said. Hazelle squeezed her hand.

"Oh, sweetheart, we love you, too. Wherever you go, whatever happens, you're part of this family. Going to New York doesn't mean you're giving us up."

* * *

Out in the hall, standing stockstill in the shadows, Gale overheard everything. He hurried back to his bedroom, the thirst which had made him get up in the first place entirely forgotten. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Madge's shuffled footsteps coming down the hall, and closed his eyes when she entered the room, pretended to be asleep, pretended he hadn't heard a damn thing. She slipped under the covers beside him, nestled into his side. Her silent tears fell hot against his arm, but he kept pretending to be asleep.

He wanted to comfort her. He didn't know what to say.

* * *

It was Gale's day off. He usually went back to bed after he put Posy on the bus, but not today. He'd stayed up most of the night, long after Madge finally fell asleep, thinking about the conversation he'd overheard. Rory had taken Ma to her chemo appointment. They wouldn't be back until after lunch. As he made breakfast for himself and Madge, his thoughts churned. The idea of Madge leaving made it hard to breathe. He needed her. He couldn't do any of this without her. _I'll ask her to stay_ , he thought, _I'll get down on my knees and beg._ He didn't care if it was right, or wrong, or selfish. She just couldn't go. He wouldn't let her.

"Something smells...burnt," said Madge, strolling into the kitchen. Gale cursed under his breath. He'd forgotten about the french toast in the frying pan. The bread was black as coal and smoking. He dumped it into the trash, before turning to her, ready to plead with her not to go. The moment he saw her, leaning against the counter, smiling sleepily, her hair in knots, wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of thick, wool socks that were crumpled up around her ankles, he changed his mind in a heartbeat.

"I want you to go to New York," he blurted. Madge gaped at him.

"How did you-?"

"I heard you talking to Ma last night," said Gale. Her look of shock turned to one of horror. She was wide awake now.

"I was going to tell you," she said.

"Really?" said Gale.

Madge grimaced and looked to her feet. Really, she wasn't sure.

"It doesn't matter," said Gale. "I know now and you're going. That's that."

Madge raised her eyes to his face again. "I won't ask you to come with me. I'd never make you chose between me and your family."

Gale smiled, even though he felt a bit like barfing. He knew she wouldn't ever put him in that position, which is exactly why he knew he had to let her go. It wasn't complicated. "I love you, Margaret Undersee," he said. "But this town has never been big enough for you. I won't trap you here. I want you to go. This is everything you've ever wanted, everything you've worked for."

"I can't," said Madge.

"You've got to."

She shook her head. He thought he was making this decision easier for her, but he wasn't. He didn't know the whole truth. "I can't," she said again. "It's not just about you. I mean, it is, kind of, but it's selfish. I...I'm scared. I don't know anyone up there. I don't know if I can do this alone."

Here, with Gale, she was safe. She knew what her life was going to be. Or at least she thought she did. Going to New York, though, was an open-ended story. Staying would be easier.

"Of course you're scared," said Gale. He picked up the phone and went to her. "You're still going, though. I'll drag you there myself if I have to. Besides, you won't be alone. I'll visit. I'll call every day, every ten minutes if you want. Vick's there, so you'll know one person." He held out the phone to her. "Call them. Take the job."

Madge hesitated. "Gale…"

"You've earned this," he said, pushing the phone into her hand, closing her fingers around it. "I didn't ask you to marry me to get in the way of your dreams. I want to live them with you and that's what I'm going to do."

Madge threw her arms around him. Yes, she would call, she would take the job, because Hazelle was right. She didn't have to chose between her dream job and the love of her life. She should have known all along that Gale would never ask her to do that. Right now, though, she just wanted to hold onto him for dear life. "Dad's going to kill me," she mumbled into his neck. "It's too late to get any refunds on the wedding."

Gale laughed. He doubted Mr. Undersee would care much about the wasted expense. He'd be angier if Madge gave up the opportunity of a lifetime just to get hitched to some coal miner's son.

"You're sure about this?" said Madge, drawing back a little to read his face, searching for the faintest sign of hesitation. One word from him was all it'd take to make her stay in this too-small town for the rest of her life. She knew it. Gale knew it.

"I'm sure," he said.

"I'm still going to marry you someday, Mr. Hawthorne," she said firmly.

Gale brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I never doubted that for a second, Miss Undersee." he said.

The miles between here and New York couldn't come between them. He was more certain of that than he'd ever been of anything. All of the obstacles they'd overcome to get to this moment had shown him that they could overcome anything, they were meant to be together, and everything would work out in the end. Letting her go might be the hardest thing he ever had to do, but then loving someone, really loving them, wasn't supposed to be easy.


	27. Trick-or-Treat (The Trick)

**AN:** And so the Gadge feud begins...

* * *

 **7th Grade**

All week, the only topic of conversation at District Twelve Middle was who was wearing what to the Halloween dance. The walls were plastered with reminders that standard dress code applied to any and all costumes.

"Bummer," said Gale, standing at the back of the cafeteria line and scanning over one of the posters to kill time while he waited. It was pizza day. The best day. He hoped Greasy Sae was serving. She always snapped that he was too skinny and snuck him an extra slice.

"What?" said Bristel.

Gale jabbed his thumb at the poster. "That," he said. "I hoped they might bend the rules a little for Halloween. I'd like to see Octavia come as Lady Godiva."

"Do you even know who Lady Godiva is?" said Bristel.

"Duh," said Thom. "She's that naked lady on a horse."

Bristel rolled his eyes. "She did that to make a point, to get her husband to lower his outrageous taxes."

Gale and Thom exchanged grins. "That so, Professor Know-it-All?" said Thom. Gale raised his hand and waited for Bristel to call on him. It was a game they often played, despite Bristel's best efforts to put an end to it, and one which he'd learned to ignore.

Hand still raised, Gale said, "Sorry, Professor Know-it-All, but she's the naked lady on a horse. That's all I care about."

Bristel had always been the smartest in their Three Musketeers troupe, even in pre-school. He used words they didn't understand, talked about stuff they didn't care about, and actually liked school. Of course they made fun of him. They mimicked him, called him Professor Know-it-All and Dr. Four-Eyes, stole his books and hid them, sometimes making him go on impossible scavenger hunts to find them, and they always promised not to do it again, and they always did it again. But sometimes the things he told them were super cool and he was more patient than their parents when he helped them with their homework. They were both proud to have such a smart friend. Bristel knew even if they never told him in words. The teasing grated on him, but it was always playful, never hurtful, and if anyone else tried to pick on him then Gale and Thom didn't hesitate to start a fight.

Besides, Bristel knew that neither of them were as cool as they pretended. They still came over on the weekends to play with his Star Wars figurines. Threatening to let the information slip to whichever girl they were crushing on at the moment was a surefire way to stop their teasing in a heartbeat. Thankfully he didn't have to resort to such measures this time. Gale and Thom dropped the act to talk about the dance.

"Have you asked anyone yet?" said Thom.

"Nah," said Gale. "I'm still going over my options."

"You're just scared Octavia will turn you down," said Thom. Gale always tried to play it cool, like girls weren't a big deal, definitely not anything to stress over, if you didn't like one then there were plenty more to chose from, simple as fishing in a lake, reel them in and cast them back out. This act worked well for him. The less he seemed to care, the more girls flocked to him. His friends, however, were not fooled. Gale Hawthorne got crushes and he got them bad. When he really liked a girl, he lost it, babbled like an idiot if he tried to talk to her (so he usually avoided her instead) and blushed like a Catholic schoolgirl. He got all sweaty, moved his hands too much, ran into things (doors, the wall, other people, the principle that one time) whenever she was within ten feet of him.

"I'm not that into her," said Gale. "She's just alright."

And when he really, really liked a girl he said she was just alright.

"Whatever, man," said Thom. "The dance is tomorrow. You probably missed your shot with her, anyways."

"You did," said Bristel. "I heard she's going with Castor."

"From who?" said Gale, a bit too sharply. He brushed his hair back from his face and added in a calmer tone, "Not that it matters."

"Venia," said Bristel. Gale's heart dropped down into his stomach. His shoulders slumped. Venia was Octavia's best friend. If she said that Octavia was going to the dance with Castor, then it was true.

Thom thumped him on the back. "You'll get her next time. Castor's got the personality of wet concrete. She'll be done with him before the dance is even over."

Gale shrugged off Thom's hand. The line was moving. He shuffled forward. _It's just a stupid dance_ , he thought, glaring at the orange and black poster. Maybe he wouldn't even go. School dances were never any fun. Mr. Latier always volunteered to DJ and he played the Electric Slide every three songs. There was always a lot of pointless drama, cheap punch from a plastic carton that tasted like liquified cough drops, and the teachers prowling around like wolves ready to lunge the second you broke the boy-girl arm's length apart rule. It didn't matter who Octavia went with, because he was so totally over middle school dances.

"I know who you should ask," said Thom.

"Who?" said Gale.

Thom looked across the cafeteria, to the table crammed into the farthest corner, with the only four empty seats in the room and the fifth one occupied by a curly headed blonde. She was tiny even for a seventh grader. Her feet didn't touch the floor. She kept her ankles crossed in mid-air, a napkin folded in her lap, cutting her pizza into small bites with a plastic fork and knife like she was at a 5 star restaurant. She reminded Gale of his grandmother.

"Undersee?" he said, looking back to Thom. "You're joking, right?"

"Well, it's not like anyone else has asked her and there's no way the Ugly Duckling's

going to turn you down."

"You shouldn't call her that," said Bristel.

"Why not?" said Thom. "That's what she is, the way she follows him around everywhere, like we don't notice."

It was hard not to notice. Somehow, Undersee popped up wherever he was. She hung around outside of his classes, turned up in the bus lot after school even though she didn't ride the bus, followed a few feet behind him in the hall. Of course she never approached him. Whenever he caught her gazing at him from afar, as he did now, she quickly looked away, buried her face in a book or simply stared at her feet. Gale paid her about as much attention as he did his own shadow. At first, he found her obvious crush sort of amusing. Now he didn't think about it. There was nothing about Madge Undersee that interested him in the least bit.

"I dare you to ask her," said Thom.

Gale perked up. Now that was interesting. "How much?" he said.

"Five bucks," said Thom.

"Not worth it."

"And all of my Halloween candy."

Gale pursed his lips, considering the offer. "Deal," he said, holding out his hand to shake on it. He was definitely getting the better end of the bargain, as long as he made sure Thom didn't try to hide the good stuff.

"I don't know why I'm still friends with the two of you," said Bristel, looking at them just like Gale's mother had when she caught them with a crushed, half empty pack of cigarettes they'd found on the sidewalk.

"What?" said Thom.

Bristel shook his head and refused to say anymore. There was no point in trying to explain to them why it was a bad idea to turn the mayor's daughter into a dare. They were going to do what they wanted and nothing he said was going to stop them.

* * *

"Please come to the dance with me," said Delly.

Madge gave her the same answer she'd given the last five hundred times Delly asked. "No."

"But it'll be fun," said Delly. She looped her arm through Madge's as they walked to their last class. "I already got this great costume."

"Then wear it," said Madge. "No one's stopping you from going."

"I can't go alone. That'd be way depressing."

"And going with me isn't?" said Madge. She slipped her arm out from Delly's. People already made fun of them for being lesbians, because they were almost always together and neither of them had any other friends. She didn't understand why this dance was so important to Delly. If they went, they'd only be made fun of. It was bad enough that she had to put up with it eight hours five days a week, so why put herself through any extra? Staying home, watching Hocus Pocus, and giving out candy to the little kids was much more appealing.

"I've never been to a school dance," said Delly. "I'm done waiting for someone to ask me. We don't need boys. We can have fun without them."

"We already do," said Madge. "Why don't you just come over to my house? You can still dress up. The tricker-treaters will like it."

Delly pouted at her. "Fine," she said. "I'll go by myself. Maybe you should go trick-or-treating, since you're such a baby, scared of a stupid school dance."

"It is stupid," snapped Madge. She did not appreciate being called a baby. Delly was the one being childish, wanting to go to the dance, wanting to be like all of their air-headed classmates who couldn't seem to talk about anything else, like winning best costume was the same as winning the Nobel Peace Prize.

"How would you know?" said Delly. "You've never been to one, either."

"I don't need to go to know that they're stupid."

"Well, I'm going to have a blast without you," said Delly. She quickened her pace, pulling ahead of Madge, who let her go without a fight. They bickered all of the time, but Delly couldn't hold a grudge longer than an hour. This whole thing about the dance would be forgotten come Monday morning. Until then, Madge planned to push it from her thoughts. She refused to let herself wonder if maybe, just maybe, Delly had a point.

Madge rounded the corner and stopped dead in the middle of the hall, oblivious to the people pushing past her, snapping at her to get out of the way. Gale Hawthorne was leaning against the wall just outside of her last period classroom. He seemed to be looking right at her, but no, he couldn't be. He never, ever looked right at her. Why would he? There was no one more popular than him at District Twelve Middle. She was nobody on the good days and any number of cruel nicknames on the bad days. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was standing behind her. When she looked back to Gale, he was still looking at her, smiling now. Smiling at her? She couldn't believe it. Maybe there was ghost behind her that he could see and she couldn't. That made more sense.

But then Gale Hawthorne started walking towards her, looking at her and smiling the whole way, stopped directly in front of her, and said, "So, you want to go to the dance with me?" The way he spoke, he might as well have been asking to borrow a pencil. Madge didn't care. She was far too caught up in his smile, those gray eyes that turned her bones to jelly, the fact that he was standing less than a foot away from her.

"Earth to Undersee," he said, waving his hand in front of her face.

"Yes." The word came out as a squeak. She swallowed and tried again. "Yes, I'll go with you."

"Cool, I'll meet you out front at eight," said Gale, then he was gone like a dream. She pinched herself to make sure that she was awake. Definitely awake. School dances suddenly didn't seem stupid at all.

* * *

At first, Delly was peeved that Madge had agreed to go to the dance with Gale and not her. By the time the end-of-day bell rang, releasing them for the weekend, she'd forgiven Madge entirely. She couldn't really blame her friend. Madge had been ga-ga for Gale since early sixth grade, after all. She readily agreed to come over after school to help Madge put together a last minute costume. Mayor Undersee was out, as usual, so they had the house to themselves. They spent the afternoon in the attic, digging through a maze of cardboard boxes, sneezing on the dust they stirred up.

"What about this?" said Delly. She held up a hot pink sequin dress with puffy tulle sleeves. "Please tell me it's not your dad's."

"No," said Madge. She recognized the dress from the old photo album she kept hidden under her bed. "It was my mom's prom dress."

"I can't believe people used to wear stuff like this," said Delly. "You could go as Carrie, though, if we get some fake blood. I mean, if you're okay with messing up your mom's dress. Or we can keep looking. There has to be something else here."

Madge took the dress and held it up to her body. It was pretty horrendous. She didn't think her mother would mind if she doused it in fake blood. She knew her father wouldn't care. He probably didn't even know the dress was in the attic. Besides, there wasn't much time left to get ready for the dance. "I'll wear it," she said.

They descended the creaky attic stairs and retreated to Madge's room. Delly's store-bought witch costume was hanging on the towel hook on the door. She'd also brought over a black pleather bag whose contents she dumped out onto the bed. A mess of makeup and curlers rolled across the mattress.

"Sit," she ordered. Madge obeyed, somewhat reluctantly. As Delly approached with both hands full of curlers, she held up her hands.

"Don't do anything crazy," she said. She had not forgotten the last time she'd let Delly coerce her into a make-over. It'd taken almost a week to get all of the color off her face.

"Relax," said Delly, rolling her eyes. "I know what I'm doing."

That makes one of us, thought Madge, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror as Delly began separating her hair into easier to manage clumps. Madge didn't have a clue what she was doing. She'd never been asked to a dance, never gone on a date, never even held hands with a boy, and Gale Hawthorne was not just any boy. He'd definitely held hands with a girl before. If the rumors about him were half true, he'd done a good deal more than that.

She hadn't been thinking clearly when she accepted his invitation. She hadn't been thinking at all and now she couldn't stop. Why did he want to go to the dance with her when he could go with anyone? Why had he suddenly noticed her after years of treating her like part of the wall?

"What if it's a prank?" said Madge. "What if he's planning to drop a bucket of pig's blood on my head?"

"Stop that," said Delly, gently tugging on a lock of Madge's hair. "He wouldn't do that. You guys used to be friends."

"We were never friends," said Madge, frowning at her reflection. True, they had been close once, a long time ago. He had been friends with her cousin Darius in elementary school. Madge had spent more time at her Aunt Maysilee's house than her own. She practically lived there and Gale came over nearly every day. The three of them used to play together for hours and hours. They spent whole summers in their pretend worlds. She remembered Gale's favorite game, rescuing the princess from her tower, an old treehouse in the backyard. Darius was usually the evil sorcerer, Gale was the valiant knight of course, and Madge got stuck being the princess. She had never really liked being the princess. It was boring, being confined to the treehouse, watching Gale and Darius beat each other with sticks.

Then Aunt Maysilee and Uncle Haymitch divorced. Aunt Maysilee packed her bags and moved to California, taking Darius with her, and their days of pretend came to an abrupt end. She doubted that Gale even remembered those times. As for her, she held onto them, the happiest times of her childhood. She knew Gale had never come to see her. He only tolerated her because she was Darius' cousin. Still, she remembered him the way he'd been, before he hung up his wooden sticks and became a middle school heartthrob, back when he was a gangly kid with scabbed knees, bringing her a basket of wild strawberries when he rescued her from her treehouse tower, her knight in denim overalls.

Then again, maybe he did remember. Maybe that's why he had asked her to the dance. He'd changed a lot over the years, but Delly was right, he wasn't likely to drop a bucket of pig's blood on her head. He ignored her most of the time, but he didn't tease her like everyone else. He wasn't like that. Madge smiled at herself in the mirror. Everything was going to be fine. She felt like she'd been waiting up in the treehouse for years, bored out of her mind, and Gale Hawthorne had finally returned to rescue her.

* * *

Gale stood outside of the school, by the flagpole, and thought dreamily of all the candy that was soon to fall into his hands as he waited for Undersee. He'd share some of the spoils with Vick and Prim. Rory, however, wouldn't get so much as a peppermint patty. One night with Madge wouldn't be so bad. He probably wouldn't even have to talk to her much. She'd be happy enough just being there with him. Besides, she was alright. People made fun of her for being so shy, for dressing like an old woman, for being so much better off then most of the people in their poor mining town, but he knew her better than any of them.

He'd seen her splashing around in the river behind her aunt's house, with her pants rolled up to her knees, slinging globs of mud at her cousin, catching tadpoles. Most of them died, but there was one that had survived to become a frog. They had named it Ribbit. Silly, kid stuff. He hadn't thought about Ribbit in a long time, but he remembered now how upset Madge had been when he died. She cried for days. Darius and Gale hadn't cared much about the frog, but they organized a grand funeral for him to cheer her up. It wasn't long after that Darius moved away.

"Nice costume," someone said. Gale snapped out of the past in an instant and blinked rapidly at Octavia, standing before him, radiant in her purple fairy get-up with glitter in her hair. His mouth went dry. _Be cool_ , he told himself.

"I vant to suck your blood," he said in a terrible Transylvanian accent, sweeping back his long black cape and baring his plastic fangs at her. _Not cool_ , he thought, cringing inwardly at himself. To his surprise, Octavia laughed.

"You'll have to get me some punch first," she said.

Gale let go of his cape. "I don't think Castor would like that too much," he said.

"Castor's not coming," she said. "He got roped into going to some fall festival at church with his brother."

"Sorry," said Gale, not sorry at all. Quite frankly, he hoped Castor choked while bobbing for apples.

"I'm not sorry," said Octavia, batting her fairy lashes at him. "I was really hoping you would ask me to the dance."

Gale's heart gave a great, startling leap. "Really?" he said, his voice cracking a bit. A scarlet flush rose up the back of his neck. Octavia just smiled again.

"Really, stupid," she said. "Unless you're here with someone else."

"No," said Gale automatically. He had completely forgotten about the bet, about Thom's Halloween candy, and the mayor's daughter. When Octavia reached for his hand, he thought he might actually swoon like the ladies in the black-and-white movies Katniss' mother liked to watch. He also felt a bit like he was floating, dizzy and happy, amazed by his good luck. Right then, if someone had asked him about Madge Undersee, he wouldn't have even known who she was. There was only one girl in the world and she was leading him into the school.

* * *

Madge didn't see Gale anywhere. He'd said he would meet her outside the school at 8. Most everyone had stopped arriving. No more parents pulled up to the curb to drop off their zombies, and werewolves, super heroes and heroines. After a while, when it started getting dark, Madge decided to go inside. Gale might have gotten there early. He was probably looking for her inside. Masks were strictly forbidden in the dress code handbook. She wished the principle had made an exception for tonight as she stepped into the gymnasium. The orange lights were low, but it wasn't too dark to see. She felt people staring at her, standing in the doorway, suspended in terror. She stuck out like a sore thumb in her mother's prom dress, too visible, impossible not to look at.

Then she remembered that Gale Hawthorne had asked her to this stupid thing and she didn't care so much about the people staring at her. They'd stop laughing when they saw who she was here with. Madge scanned the crowded room for her date. Despite the dim lighting and the confusion of costumes, it didn't take long to find him. He was in the very middle of the basketball court, slow-dancing with Octavia, his hands at her waist, and grinning from ear to ear.

Madge wanted to run far, far away. She couldn't move. She couldn't stop watching Gale and Octavia sway awkwardly to some croony pop song. There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe Octavia had asked him to dance while he was waiting and he'd said yes because he didn't want to be rude. Yeah, that was it. As soon as the song ended, she choked down her nerves and strode into the gym, careful not to trip over her long hem. Octavia spotted her first. Her eyes raked over Madge.

"What are you supposed to be?" she said. "An episode of What Not to Wear?"

"I'm Carrie," said Madge. She didn't back down from Octavia's scathing gaze. Not tonight. She had every right to be here, to have a good time, to dance with Gale Hawthorne and ask him if he remembered the treehouse.

"Who?" said Octavia.

Gale knew who Carrie was, but he didn't say anything. Her costume was pretty rad. She hadn't held back. The front of her outrageous dress, her big curls, even her face were splattered with fake blood. There were dozens of princesses, fairies, and wonder woman's. There was only one Carrie. He didn't tell her any of that, either, because Octavia was holding his hand. When Madge looked at him, he looked away. He didn't want to confront the disappointment in her eyes.

"What do you want, weirdo?" said Octavia.

Madge ignored her. She kept trying to get Gale to look at her like he had earlier that day. "I thought we were supposed to be here together," she said. Gale still didn't say anything. Octavia laughed.

"As if," she said. "Who'd want to be seen with you?"

"You asked me," said Madge, speaking directly to Gale.

"You must've been dreaming," he said, half mumbling, staring at his feet.

Madge felt like she'd just bitten into her favorite Halloween candy only to find a razor blade. Instead of a soft caramel filling, she got a mouthful of blood. She knew very well she hadn't been dreaming. She had a bruise where she'd pinched herself. Octavia was still laughing. People were still staring. For once, she didn't want to hide away, to retreat, to dangle at the end of their jokes.

"Shut up," she snapped at Octavia. Octavia stopped laughing abruptly. Her eyes went wide in shock. The mayor's daughter never fought back. Now, though, Madge seemed intimidating, almost scary, with all of that fake blood and the pure rage blazing in her blue eyes. When Gale finally looked up, he sincerely wished that he hadn't. "You're such a jerk," she said, shoving him.

"Back off, Undersee," he said, just as stunned as Octavia. Had she really just pushed him? She did it again and that answered the question.

"I thought you liked me," said Madge, "but I guess that was stupid, because you don't really care about anyone. You just use people until you get bored of them."

"That's not true," said Gale, swatting away her hands.

"Is too," said Madge. Neither of them realized that their voices were rising, they were attracting an audience. "You think you're so cool. You think you can just walk all over people and get away with it, because everyone loves you, but let me tell you something, Hawthorne-" She shoved him one more time. "I hate you. I really, really hate you."

Gale believed her. The way she was glaring at him, as if she wanted to claw his face off with her bare hands, made it hard not to. He noticed the people watching them. He saw Octavia from the corner of his eye. "Good," he said. "Now you can stop stalking me. It's pathetic, really. You're pathetic."

Madge took a step back. She'd been called pathetic before, plenty of times, but it was different somehow coming from him. She expected it from everyone else. Not her knight in dirty overalls. She realized then that she didn't know him at all anymore. There was nothing left of that gangly, scab kneed boy who brought her wild strawberries.

"I'd rather be pathetic than a piece of slag," she said.

Gale's fists curled at his side. His fury now matched her own. Slag was the most derogatory thing you could call someone from a mining family. Madge Undersee had never used the word before. She wished she hadn't now, but it was too late. Hating herself, hating him, she spun around and fled, oblivious to the hostile glares of her classmates. They would make her pay for what she'd said, but it didn't matter, because she knew no one would make her pay more than Gale Hawthorne.

* * *

Stupid dances, stupid boys, stupid Octavia, stupid Halloween.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid me," Madge mumbled to herself. She was sitting on the curb, hugging her knees to her chest, waiting for her father's chauffeur. It was chilly. She didn't have a jacket. She refused to go back inside. Ever. First thing tomorrow she'd ask her father if she could be homeschooled. How could she face her classmates after this?

"Hey," someone said from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Bristel. "You alright?"

Madge shrugged and looked back to the parking lot. She didn't know why Bristel, one of Gale's best friends, had followed her out here. She wished he would leave. Instead he sat down on the curb beside her. For awhile neither of them spoke. The cold seemed to sap the anger right out of Madge's body, leaving behind a sticky feeling of regret.

"I shouldn't have called him that," she said.

"No, you shouldn't have," said Bristel. His father was a miner, too.

"I didn't mean it," said Madge. "I just got so mad."

"I know."

"Everyone's going to hate me now."

"For a little while, yeah," said Bristel. "They'll get over it."

Madge wasn't so sure. Maybe most people would forget, but not Gale. She doubted he'd ever forgive her. And so what? She didn't have any intentions of forgiving him, either. He wasn't a piece of slag, but he was a jerk. He wasn't a knight and she swore to herself that she'd never be a damsel again. She wouldn't give any stupid boy the power to shatter her heart into a million pieces. Certainly not him.

"I'm sorry," said Bristel.

"You didn't do anything," said Madge.

"I know, that's why I'm sorry." He had known his friends' bet would end in disaster. They usually did. "I like your costume, by the way."

Madge turned to him with a shaky half smile. "Thanks."

"You really went full-on Carrie tonight," said Bristel. "It was kind of cool. I'm glad you didn't burn down the school, though."

"Well, maybe if I was telekinetic."

Bristel chuckled. He stood, shuffled his feet against the pavement, and then said, "You want to go back inside?"

Madge shook her head. The chauffeur would be here any minute. She really just wanted to go home. Bristel hesitated a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should. "He didn't mean to hurt you, you know," he finally said, jumbling the words together. "He doesn't think sometimes."

Madge didn't care whether or not Gale had meant to hurt her. He'd done it either way. Stupid dances, stupid boys. She would never, ever let him stomp all over her ever again. She was done with him from now until forever.

* * *

"I had a good time," said Octavia. She kissed his cheek before hurrying off to her ride. Gale watched her mom's minivan weave through the parking lot. He should've been happy. He'd spent the night dancing with Octavia. She'd even kissed him on the cheek. She actually liked him. Yet for some reason, as he stood alone by the flagpole, waiting for his dad, he couldn't stop thinking about Madge Undersee.

Deep down, he knew he'd messed up. Bristel wanted him to apologize to her. _I'd rather be pathetic than a piece of slag._ But no, he wouldn't apologize. He couldn't. She didn't deserve an apology after what she'd said. If that's what she really thought about him, then screw her. She'd shown herself to be the stuck-up, condescending ice queen everyone accused her of being. She wasn't the same girl who had cried for days over some stupid frog. Mr. Ribbet was dead and buried, along with whatever lingering childhood affection they'd had for one another. A line had been crossed tonight and there was no going back.


	28. Bail You Out

SENIOR YEAR (college)

May

Madge leaned back in her chair. She cracked her neck, stretched her arms above her head, and then shut her laptop. Her final exam paper was finished. She had dotted every i, crossed all the t's, and now it was all over. The only thing left to do was walk across a stage, shake the dean's hand, and accept her diploma. Oddly enough, she didn't feel as accomplished as she'd expected, rather she felt...empty. The past four years had seemed to drag on, but now that she was done, they seemed to have flown by.

She stayed at the table, unsure what to do with herself. There were no more papers to write, no more recitals to rehearse for, no more exam study guides to pour over, and no more exams to take. As of two seconds ago, she ceased being a student, and now she didn't know what she was.

Had Gale felt this way last year? She doubted it. He'd never taken school all that seriously. Still, she decided to ask him how he'd coped with this rather discombobulating transition from student to normal human being. As she reached for her phone, it rang.

"Hello?" she answered, already guessing who it was. Not many people called her in the middle of the night. Just as she suspected, Gale's voice filled her hear.

"Undersee!" he said, slurring her name, adding in a w sound where there was none, so that it sounded like Underswee. She rolled her eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me," he said. Madge couldn't help smiling. He knew her so well. She knew him, too. Already she'd risen from the table and begun searching for her keys.

"Let me guess, you need a ride?" she said.

"Yuppsie daisy," said Gale.

"Still at the Hobb?"

"Not exactly."

Madge found her keys in the sink, stuck in the disposal, no idea how they'd gotten there. She cradled the phone against her shoulder as she worked to pry them out. Gale teased her for all the odd places her keys ended up. He'd put up a hook by the door last week for her to hang them on after finding them in Buttercup's litter box. She rarely used the hook, of course, unless he was there to remind her.

"Well, where are you?" she said.

"Um, jail." Madge had only just freed her keys. She immediately dropped them into sink again. "It's a funny story, really," Gale continued. "Once upon a time-" The line died. Obviously, his time was up. Whatever he'd done this time, she was just going to have to wait to find out, though she'd really rather not know.

Madge shook her head, considered letting her boyfriend stew in a cell for awhile, but eventually fished her keys out of the sink and hurried through the door. Her sense of emptiness, at least, had been replaced by a new purpose.

* * *

Thom, Gale, and Katniss were crammed into the backseat like three naughty children. The only thing Madge had said to them since bailing them out was, "Not you, too," as she eyed Katniss in grim disbelief. She expected trouble from the boys, but had thought Katniss above their shenanigans.

Madge kept her eyes on the road as she drove. She didn't glance in the rearview mirror once.

"I think mom's mad at us," Thom whispered. Katniss elbowed him in the ribs. Gale was silent. He hung his head out the window, enjoying the cool air slapping his flushed face, until Madge rolled it up, nearly decapitating him. He knew better than to voice a complaint. The story the police had given her was not at all funny. The three of them had been caught trying to break into Flickerman's Phantasmagorical Party Shoppe. She'd blown her summer rent fund on their bail, which she was dead set on getting back, even if it meant dragging all three of them to court by their hair.

Madge stopped at Katniss' apartment first. She had already called Peeta. He was waiting for them on the sidewalk. "Thanks," he said to Madge, bending down to talk to her through the passenger window. He looked to the three delinquents in the backseat. Katniss met his gaze and waved sheepishly. Peeta smiled back at her.

"Don't you dare smile at her," snapped Madge. Katniss' hand dropped to her lap, Peeta's smile fell. He opened the back door and helped his girlfriend out of the car. She stumbled over the curb. Madge watched the pair of them until they were inside. She knew Peeta would go too easy on Katniss. He'd tuck her into bed, make sure she drank a glass of water, and maybe even sing her a lullaby, which she supposed was sort of a punishment, considering he couldn't carry a tune to save his life. Madge, however, planned to give her friend quite an earful in the morning.

The car sped along to Thom's place next. "Can you make it on your own?" she said, still not looking at him. "Got your keys?"

"Yes, mom," said Thom. Madge finally turned to glare at him. "Sorry," he muttered, hurrying from the car. He practically ran to his building, as though he was afraid she was going to chase after him with her belt. She might have if she was wearing one. As she pulled away from the curb, Gale leaned between the front seats.

"Madge, I-"

"Buckle your seatbelt," she said. "And don't talk to me right now."

"Can I please explain?"

Without taking her eyes from the road, she took one hand off of the steering wheel and shoved him back into his seat. "I swear to god, Hawthorne, I'll make you walk home."

Gale did as he was told. Madge Undersee rarely made idle threats.

* * *

Madge threw her keys on the couch and spun around to confront her boyfriend. "Well?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "You can try to explain yourself now."

Gale shuffled his feet. He plunged his hands into his pocket. His bleary eyes darted back and forth from the floor to his girlfriend's angry, white face. "Okay," he said slowly, taking a deep breath. "So we were at the Hobb, hanging out, playing pool."

"Go on," said Madge, tapping her foot.

"Well, Thom got bored-" Madge interrupted him with a derisive snort. Of course, she thought. Gale faltered a moment. He took another deep breath before continuing. "We thought it might be fun to set off some fireworks in the park, but we used the last of Thom's stash at Johanna's birthday party, so-"

"So you decided to break into Flickerman's and steal a few?" said Madge.

Gale winced. "No, we were going to leave money on the counter."

"Oh, that makes it okay then," she said. She was no longer tapping her foot. It was times like these she wondered what the hell she was doing with Gale Hawthorne. He could be so immature. Just when she thought he'd finally grown up, he pulled a stupid stunt like this. "You're twenty-two, not twelve," she reminded him.

"I know." Gale took a step towards her. The look she cast him stopped him short. "It was stupid, we weren't thinking, I'm sorry, it won't ever happen again," he said in a jumbled, conciliatory rush.

"Damn right," said Madge. Gale's shoulders slumped. He glued his eyes to the floor now, just like a little kid, a broad-shouldered kid who'd forgotten to shave that morning and was still drunk as a skunk. Looking at him, her anger suddenly drained, a small smile played at the corners of her lips. He was stupid, he didn't always think, he was always sorry, and something else always happened, but all in all, she had one very good reason for being with him. She loved him more than she'd thought it possible to love someone. It didn't make sense, but it was true.

Madge crossed the room and took his hand. "Come on," she said, leading him across the living room. "Let's get you into bed." Before they made it halfway to the bedroom, Gale wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing them to a halt, and burrowed his face in her hair.

"Does this mean you're not mad anymore?" he said.

"I'm furious," said Madge. "And before you get any ideas, I'm sleeping on the couch tonight." She felt him grin against the back of her neck and, despite herself, couldn't help leaning into his chest.

"Sure you don't want to give me a spanking? I deserve it."

"Maybe tomorrow," she said, gripping his arm again to pull him along to the bedroom.

She did not sleep on the couch. Instead, she tucked him in, made sure he drank a glass of water, and then crawled under the covers beside him. She knew what she was now that her student days were over. She was the person who would always bail him out of trouble, regardless what he'd done, because he'd do the same for her.


	29. Blame

**AN:** Be aware of the massive amounts of foreshadowing in this chapter...

* * *

Early Thirties

"I know, I know, I'm late," said Gale, bursting into the waiting room. Madge didn't look up from her magazine. She pretended to be deeply invested in an article about Oxytocin, the love hormone. "Got stuck at work. I tried to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail."

Dr. Paylor had a strict rule forbidding all outside distractions during their sessions. "Turned it off already," said Madge, still refusing to look at him. She was angry, he could tell, though he didn't see what he was supposed to do about it. No one at work knew he and Madge were in couple's therapy, so he couldn't exactly use that as his a reason to leave early. He knew what Madge would say if he tried that excuse on her. _Why don't you just tell them? There's nothing shameful about it._ It was all well and good for her to throw that line at him whenever he uttered the smallest complaint, but god forbid he point out her own resistance to seeking treatment for her depression.

Gale bit his tongue against the argument, but he couldn't keep entirely silent. "She hasn't even called us in yet, has she?" he said, a slight edge to tone. Madge snapped shut the magazine and raised her narrowed eyes to his face.

"That's not the point," she hissed. "I'd like to know you were taking this as seriously as me. When you're late to every appointment-"

"Two," said Gale, holding up two fingers. "Don't go exaggerating, making me into the bad guy. I agreed to this, didn't I? I'm here."

"Stop acting like I've got a gun to your head. If you don't want to be here, then just go back to work, forget the whole thing. It's not like we're making any progress, anyway, because all you do is scowl and grumble and-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne? Dr. Paylor is ready for you now," said the receptionist. Madge threw the magazine onto the table, shot him one last glare, and then went ahead into Paylor's office. Gale marched miserably behind her. They weren't off to a good start today. Madge was right. In the two months since she'd announced her pregnancy and they'd decided to give fixing their marriage a shot, things between them had only gotten worse.

"How are we today?" said Dr. Paylor. She was a cool, crisp woman, who missed nothing. She inspected the Hawthornes as they took their seats on the other side of the desk. "Ah, not well, I see. Should we start with what's bothering you both today?"

"It's nothing," said Gale, hunched in his chair, arms folded across his chest like he was trying to put up a shield between himself and the therapist. Beside him, Madge sat stiff as a board.

"This whole thing is nothing to him," she said. Gale rolled his eyes. _Here we go again._ Time for her to blame him for everything that was wrong in her life. Forgetting about Dr. Paylor in his anger, he turned to his estranged wife.

"You're right, darling," he said acidicly. "I'm paying for this crap just for the shits and giggles of it."

Madge opened her mouth to snap back at him, but Dr. Paylor held up her hands, silencing them both. "Enough," she said sternly. "Mr. Hawthorne, what did we discuss last week?"

"Your office is a sarcasm free zone," mumbled Gale. He felt like a child and half-expected Paylor to make him put a penny in the sarcasm jar.

"And Mrs. Hawthorne?" said Dr. Paylor.

"Let the little things go," said Madge, staring at her hands twisted in her lap.

"Good," said Dr. Paylor. She opened the file on her desk and perused it a moment, before turning her sharp eyes once more on the couple. "I think it's time we move on to the start of your troubles, before the affair."

Gale's fists clenched in his lap. His blood began to boil at the very mention of the affair. "That was the start," he said. He heard Madge shift uncomfortably a foot away. He could practically smell her anxiety, the fear that he was about to explode.

"I really don't think it was," said Dr. Paylor. Gale scoffed before he could stop himself. As if this woman, this stranger, knew anything about them. Paylor ignored him and continued. "Affairs don't spring out of the blue. There must have been existing problems already. Now, I want you to think, go back to before the infidelity, and tell me what your marriage was like. We'll start with you, Mrs. Hawthorne."

Madge wrung her hands as she thought. It was painful to go back. She glanced one at Gale, afraid to speak the words that had been strangling her for years. Now he was the one pointedly avoiding her gaze. She took a deep breath and began. "I guess I felt lonely." Gale scoffed again.

"Please, Mr. Hawthorne, let your wife talk," said Dr. Paylor. Gale hunched even further into his seat. It took a minute for Madge to work up the courage to continue.

"Things took a turn after we bought the house," she said. "He was working long hours then. The mortgage was really too much for us and money was tight. That's when the worst arguments started, over finances and what not. I mean, we've always fought, and I do mean always, ever since we were kids, but these fights were different. They…"

"Lingered," Dr. Paylor finished for her. Madge nodded.

"I knew he was stressed. I tried to be understanding, to not take it personally when he lost his temper, and I could've dealt with that. What hurt the most, what drove me to the...the…" She couldn't say the word. It caught in her chest. It was scar tissue. "I missed him. Even when we were together, it was like he was somewhere else. There was this distance between us and I didn't know how to cross it. I was afraid to even try. I was afraid he regretted marrying me. He hardly looked at me, never told me anything about his day, and...and, well, in terms of intimacy…" She blushed, but forced herself to spill the truth of her thoughts. "It seemed like touching me was a chore to him. He wouldn't even kiss me on the cheek."

Gale couldn't hold himself back. She'd gone too far. "You've got to be kidding," he said, pulling himself up straight. "It's not like you were lacking in the intimacy department. You had what's-his-name to keep you satisfied."

Madge whipped her head around. Her cheeks turned an even darker shade of red, fury now intermingled with her embarrassment and shame.

"Not then I didn't," she said, her voice shrill. "You pulled away long before Castor-"

"Don't you dare say his name," said Gale, his own voice rising. He wanted to jam his fingers in his ears. He wanted to hit something. It took every ounce of strength in him not to. Madge saw the way his fists were shaking. She would not be cowed, though, not this time.

"Don't you act like it's not true. I tried so hard, but you were always too busy, too tired, to distracted by work. There was always some excuse, so yes, I was lonely. I was trying to fill the void you created."

"Yet again, it's all my fault," said Gale. He leapt to his feet. "Fine, Undersee, that's just fucking fine. I worked my ass off to give you everything you wanted, the house, the nice car, that trip to Paris."

"I didn't ask for any of that!" said Madge, standing now as well. "And you didn't do any of it for me. That was all your own damn pride and you know it. You've never gotten over your stupid shame about growing up poor. You wouldn't listen no matter how many times I told you I didn't care if we lived in a cardboard box."

"You cheated on me!" Gale roared. Enough was enough. How dare she sling all this shit at him, about his flaws, when she was the one who had broken their marriage vows?

"And I've apologized a million times. It was a mistake. What do you want me to do, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?"

Gale's fists unclenched. His anger hardened, becoming steel instead of fire. "No," he said. This was pointless, hopeless, because what he wanted was for her to go back in time, but they didn't live in a science fiction novel, and, truth be told, he couldn't forgive her no matter how many times she apologized, no matter how much of her actions had been in response to his own. Neither could he express just how deeply her betrayal had wounded him.

"I can't do this," he said, exhausted. He looked from Madge to Dr. Paylor, who was like a statue behind her desk, unphased by their shouting. Now she came to life again.

"Are you giving up on your marriage, Mr. Hawthorne?" she said calmly. "Because you can do that. You can walk out right now, but before you do, I'd like you to remember why you came to me in the first place."

Gale looked to the door, back to Dr. Paylor, and finally to his wife. Their eyes locked and he knew she wouldn't stop him if he decided to go. Something in her gaze made him hesitate. She wouldn't stop him, no, but there was fear in those blue eyes he used to absolutely drown in. Not fear of his anger, but the fear of losing him for good. He recognized it, because he felt it too.

But was it really worth it, being together? They weren't what they had been. Both Madge and Dr. Paylor were right. They hadn't been happy since long before the affair. "I can't," he said again. "I just can't." Maybe it would hurt to part, but he couldn't imagine it would hurt worse than they'd been hurting each other.

Gale turned his back on his wife and walked out for a second time.

* * *

Madge stared at the door. Everything else slipped away. She wasn't aware of Dr. Paylor watching her. _Let him go,_ she thought. They were broken. They couldn't fix it. Her hands went to her stomach. Not even their unborn child was enough to hold them together anymore and that was the final proof that they were over. How long had they dreamt of starting a family together? She remembered those long ago nights, laying in bed together, thinking up baby names, planning a future that had fallen in around them.

A light bulb went off in her head. Dr. Paylor had asked them to go back to the very start of their problems and, suddenly, Madge realized she hadn't gone back far enough. Though she hadn't spoken a word, Dr. Paylor recognized an epiphany when she saw one. "Go," she said.

Madge turned to the therapist. Dr. Paylor gave one of her rare smiles, a gentle encouragement. "It's not too late. Not yet." Madge wasn't so sure. What she was certain of, however, was that she had to try. Before there was time to doubt, she hurried from the office, broke into a run once she was through the waiting room, and spilled out onto the street. Gale was just about to round the corner.

"Wait!" she cried. "Gale, wait!"

Gale stopped and turned to the sound of her voice. He didn't want to, hadn't planned to, but it was habit. He always stopped when she called. Madge kept running until she was a few feet away, then came to an abrupt halt.

"I'm sorry," she gasped.

"I know, Undersee," he said. "I do, honestly, but it doesn't change anything. It keeps coming back, the thought of you and him, and-"

"I'm not talking about the affair," said Madge, her breath still coming short. There wasn't time to catch it. She had to say this now before she lost her nerve. "I'm sorry for the abortion."

Gale gaped at her. Neither of them had mentioned _that_ since before they were married. It was ancient history, a dark chapter in their lives which had long since been closed. So he thought.

"You always wanted a big family," said Madge. "And it wasn't the money problems, or even the affair, that ruined us. It was because we thought I couldn't have children. I couldn't give you that big family you'd always dreamed of. That's why you why wanted to leave." She held up her hands, in supplication, in a prayer, but for the longest time Gale didn't know what to say. He stared at her until the shock wore off enough for him to find his voice again.

"Is that what you really think?" he said, almost a whisper.

"What else is there for me to think?"

Gale shook his head. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. "Christ, Madge, I never wanted to leave you." The urge to laugh passed. All these years, buried in her subconscious, he realized that she'd believed all along that he'd wanted to leave because she couldn't conceive. He accepted, too, that he had distanced himself from her after finding out the odds of them ever having children was slim to none.

"If I hadn't gotten rid of that first baby, before the accident, we would've been okay," said Madge, tears brimming in her blue eyes. "We thought we'd missed our chance and it was all my fault."

"No," said Gale firmly. He closed the few feet of distance between them, caught her face in his hands, and made her look at him. "No, Madge," he said, softly this time. "I forgave you for that a long, long time ago. I didn't pull away because I was angry with you. I was angry at me. I blamed myself for the fact that we couldn't get pregnant. The accident…" He shivered remembering it, the car flipping over the guardrail and falling down that neverending ravine, Madge's blood on his hands, so much blood, the terror of thinking he had killed her. "...it was my fault. I thought you blamed me too."

Gale dropped his hands from her face. He'd never admitted those words, not even to himself. When he tried to step back, Madge caught his hand and squeezed it as hard as she could. "Never," she said. "Not once"

Gale felt tears welling in his own eyes. He wasn't sad. It was relief coursing through him as the weight he'd been carrying in silence for too long finally lifted. He squeezed her hand just as hard. Loathe as he was to admit it, he supposed Dr. Paylor was right, talking about their feelings was a good thing. If only they'd done it sooner.

"We can make this right," said Madge. "It's not too late. Not yet. Please, I can't loose you. I don't want to. You've always been there, for as long as I can remember."

Gale smiled as the tears spilled over. He didn't even care that he was crying in public or that people were staring at them. He was thinking of his first memory of his wife, her first day of preschool, hiding under the table until he coaxed her out with animal crackers. Somehow, he'd forgotten about that moment until now.

"I'm still here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere, Margaret Undersee."

"Hawthorne," she corrected, giving him a shy, watery smile in return. Right then, he knew they were going to be okay. Whatever was broken between them had finally begun to mend.

* * *

 **AN Continued:** Right, so, I totally, maybe, kinda sorta teared up while writing this.


End file.
